Heart of A Lion
by InfinityStar
Summary: A visit to Bobby's mother goes terribly wrong. The next installment of the 'Choices' storyline.
1. Best Friends

**A/N: Okay...I made the mistake of not checking the previous story for details and I am big on continuity...sooooooo...I am revising this entire tale. So when you go looking for the chapters that came after this one, they won't be there until I repost them. I decided to go an entirely different direction with this one--a direction loaded with angst for the family. You all know how I thrive on angst :-)**

* * *

In the dark of the bedroom, Goren held his tiny infant daughter against his chest. She wore only a diaper and he was shirtless. She cuddled into his chest. In the three weeks since she'd been home, he found that she settled more quickly with skin-to-skin contact, which was not uncommon with premature babies. He was content to calm the baby so Eames could sleep as often as he was able, and since Molly had only eaten thirty minutes earlier, he figured she only wanted comfort. As soon as he settled her against his chest, she calmed and took the pacifier he offered. She responded to him as well as Maggie and Tom always had.

A soft knock drew his attention from the almost-sleeping baby and the door slowly opened. "Daddy? Mommy?"

"Come on in, mouse," he said quietly.

Maggie came into the room and walked to him. "I heared my Molly crying. Is she okay?"

"She's fine, baby. She just wanted to be held."

"Did she have a bad dream?"

He sat down in the rocking chair he'd gotten when Maggie was a baby, shifting Molly into his left arm so Maggie could climb into his lap, too. She was careful of his other arm, which was still in a cast, healing from the showdown with John Hampton just a few days after Molly was born. Maggie was able to read the pain he still suffered, and she worried about him, which troubled him. She worried about too many things. "No," he answered. "She's too little to have bad dreams."

"Then she was lonely?"

"I suppose she was."

"She's not usta bein' alone."

"You're right about that."

Maggie sighed and rested her head against his chest, gently rubbing the baby's back. "I get lonely, too, my littlest baby," she whispered.

Goren frowned. "When do you get lonely, Maggie?"

"Mos'ly when you're gone," she replied. "Mommy makes me happy, an' I don' like bein' away from Tommy, ever. But my heart al'ays gets lonely when you're not aroun', even when ev'ybody's home. It soun's funny. You shouldn' be lonely with lotsa peoples aroun', but you can be."

"Yes, you can." He pressed his lips against her head. "I won't always be around, mouse."

"I know, Daddy. But I can' change my heart."

"Maybe not right now, but when you grow up, you're going to find someone special, someone you'll love in a different way than you love us."

"Like you love Mommy?"

"Yes. Exactly."

She was quiet for a moment. "Am I special, Daddy?"

"To me you are."

She moved her hand from the baby's back and settled it against his skin, snuggling close. "What's a bes' frien'?"

She had such a busy little mind, like his own, so he was used to her tangents and sudden deviations to seemingly unrelated topics that were linked to one another somewhere in her mind. It was the way his own mind worked. "Um, someone you like spending time with and doing things with...who you can talk to when your life goes out of whack, and share things with when everything's going right."

"Is Mommy your bes' frien'?"

"Mommy is closer than a best friend to me. She's an important part of my heart. Uncle Mike is my best friend."

She nodded and yawned. "You an' Mommy are my heart," she said softly. "An' Tommy's my bes' frien'."

He brushed a kiss through her thick, unruly hair. "Do you have a friend at school who's more special than the others?"

Another yawn. "I guess so."

"Who's that?"

"It's Devon." She nestled against him and closed her eyes. "But Tommy's my bestest frien'."

He snugged his injured arm around her and gently gave each daughter a kiss on the head. Devon? Her best friend at school was a boy?

Once certain she was asleep, he stood up. Walking to the bed, he set Maggie down beside her mother and returned to the crib. Gently swaddling Molly in a soft fleece blanket, he kissed her again and left her to sleep in the crib that made her look even tinier than he did. Gently scooping Maggie into his arms, he carried her to her room and tucked her in. After checking on Tommy, he returned to bed.

Settling under the blankets, he was surprised when his wife slid into his side and hugged him. "Devon," he whispered. "Her best friend at school is Devon. Not Stephanie or Barbara or Christine. Devon. Are you sure we can't keep her home?"

She laughed quietly. "You know we can't. She's growing up. You can't isolate her from all the boys in the world. Think about it, Bobby. Who does Maggie hang out with? Aside from me, it's you, Tommy, Mike, Dad, Jake...it's only natural that her best friend would be a boy as well."

He grunted unhappily. "I'm still not sure I like it."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to accept it."

He sighed. "This is only going to get harder, isn't it?"

"For you? Yes."

"She's starting to step away from...us."

"Kids do that," she said gently. Lightly stroking his skin, she then added, "But remember this...you have a special relationship with her. She may step away from us as she gains her independence, but I honestly don't believe she will ever step away from the bond she has with you."

He kissed the side of her head and softly sighed. "I just wish she could stay little, so we never have to let her go."

"You know that's not possible." She stifled a yawn. "We're still going to visit your mother Saturday, right?"

"As long as she continues to do well, yes."

"Maggie can't wait to show off Molly."

He finally laughed. "I know. At breakfast the other day she asked me why she couldn't take her for show and tell."

"What did you tell her?"

"Well, first I told her that she had no way to feed Molly. After I found her trying to nurse her, I added that she was too little and you need her home with you, but I gave her a picture to take to school, and she seemed content with that."

"She's like her father—too smart for her own good sometimes."

Leaning up, she kissed him softly. He smiled. "What was that for?"

"For being an even better family man than I ever imagined a man could be."

"I just...want them to be happy...to have a better childhood...a better father...than I did." He shifted restlessly. "And you...deserve a good husband...like you had with Joe."

"And what about you, Bobby?"

"Me? What do you mean?"

She snuggled deeper into his embrace and caressed his side, glad he seemed to calm down. "Don't you think you deserve to be happy?"

"But I am."

She sighed, shaking her head slowly. "Never mind," she murmured. "I'm tired and you have a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning. Are you going with me to see Dr. Burke at two-thirty?"

"Yes. Mike's going to pick up Maggie from school."

"She knows that, doesn't she?"

He smiled. "Yes. After the last time I didn't pick her up when she expected me, I learned my lesson."

She laughed softly, then yawned. "At least you learn," she whispered, pressing her lips against his chest. "Good night, baby."

He drew her tight against his body. "Good night, Alex."

She went to sleep readily, but he remained awake for a long time, still trying to come to terms with his daughter growing up.


	2. A Visit Gone Bad

**A/N: Just a reminder--I'm re-editing and reposting this story because I missed some details of continuity and decided to change some things.**

* * *

Eames rolled over in bed to snuggle against her husband, but he wasn't there. She looked at the time. Almost seven. He was probably on his way back from Logan's. He had a nine-thirty doctor's appointment and she had one at two-thirty. Logan had agreed to take Maggie to and from school and spend the day with Tommy. Molly would remain with them, since Eames was still breast-feeding.

Both men were almost ready to return to work after being shot by John Hammond, and they were both getting restless. Logan seemed to be his normal, obnoxious self, but she was concerned about Goren. Although she was six weeks out from Molly's birth and well healed, he was still very tentative with her. She understood his apprehension and his fear of hurting her, but it troubled her to think that the only reason he slept in the bedroom was to tend to Molly. She wanted to discuss it with him, but she wasn't sure exactly how to approach it. She'd watched him withdraw like this many times over the course of their partnership, and it was a cause for further concern to her that there were still times she could not reach him, even now.

She got out of bed and showered. Stepping into the bedroom wearing only a towel, she was surprised to find Bobby home, holding Molly and pacing beside the crib, gently bouncing her. The cadence of his voice was soothing as he softly sang to her. Eames smiled as she watched him, feeling a complicated surge of tenderness and desire.

He must have sensed she was there because he looked up and stopped his pacing, falling silent as he stared in her direction. "Don't stop on my account," she encouraged.

He blinked for a moment, searching for words, any words, to fill the void. "I...uh, I think she's hungry."

"Probably. Let me get dressed and I'll feed her before we go."

He nodded, looking away and draping Molly's portable oxygen tank over his cast. "We'll wait in the living room."

He purposely averted his gaze to avoid looking at her as he carried the baby from the room, and Eames sighed. She'd hoped he would stay, showing some real interest in her, and she was disappointed when he didn't. She dressed and went into the living room, where he was pacing as he talked to the baby. She was watching him with wide, bright eyes, just the way Maggie used to when she was an infant. He fascinated his daughters. Eames had to admit he fascinated her, too. He was so focused on the baby that he didn't notice her until she stepped up to his side and touched his arm. He looked at her, and she caught an unguarded look for just a moment before it quickly retreated.

She took the baby and walked to the couch, knowing he would follow with the oxygen. He set it down beside her and turned, but she caught his arm. "Sit down," she insisted.

He hesitated briefly, but did as she asked, studying the green tank by his knee instead of looking at her as she settled the baby to nurse. When she leaned against him, he tensed reflexively, then tried to force himself to relax before she noticed. Too late. Her hand grasped his as she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't give me that. I know you better."

"I'm serious. Nothing is wrong."

She tried to be patient. "So why are you avoiding me?"

"Avoiding...?" He stopped and frowned, shifting his point of view to consider how she would interpret his behavior and he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not avoiding you. I'm...uh, protecting you."

"Protecting me from what?" she snapped. "And don't tell me you're protecting me from you unless you want a black eye."

"I'm not. You just had major surgery, Alex. The last thing you need..." He trailed off, embarrassed and uncomfortable. "You don't need me causing problems, that's all."

"Problems? What kind of problems..."

He cut her off with a kiss, one that quickly escalated in intensity and she realized exactly why he'd been avoiding contact. When he drew back, it was with great difficulty and she touched his chin. "Dammit," she whispered hoarsely. "How long...?"

She didn't have to complete the question and he had no intention of answering it. He brushed his lips over hers again, got up from the couch and left the room. She looked down at Molly and said, "Your daddy is the most frustrating man in the world, little girl."

As if in reply, Molly grunted and sucked harder. Eames smiled. She understood his frustration and was fully confident she would get the green light from her doctor that afternoon to bring that frustration to a shattering end. Just the thought of it sent a shiver of pleasure through her. Some things were definitely worth the wait and she had every intention of proving that to her husband. When she finished with him, he would have no doubt that the past two months had been just as difficult for her as they had for him in every way.

* * *

Richard Wrightweiler studied the x-rays on the lightbox in front of him. He ran his fingers along a series of faint lines on the film and then studied the areas around the pins he'd had to use to hold the shattered bone in place as it healed. He turned back toward the exam table, where Goren was flexing his wrist and elbow. Pain was clearly evident on his face as he manipulated the sore, stiff joints. "You're healing well," the doctor commented as he stepped to the table and examined Goren's arm. "Squeeze my fingers."

Goren squeezed the doctor's fingers, wincing as he swallowed a grunt of pain. He asked, "Well enough to get rid of the cast?"

Wrightweiler didn't miss the note of hope in the man's voice and he hated to dash it, but this arm had more healing to do and he was not willing to risk serious complications when it was healing so nicely. "No. Not yet."

Goren frowned. "What about work?"

The surgeon glanced at Eames, then back at his patient. "How's the pain?"

"I manage with it."

"Am I to assume you're no longer taking your pain medication?"

Goren shrugged, but didn't answer and the doctor again looked at Eames, who said, "I encourage him to take it when he needs it, but he won't listen to me."

Wrightweiler sat down on his stool and tapped his pen on a prescription pad. "I supposed I'd be wasting time and ink to write a script for something else."

Again Goren shrugged and he had his answer. He flipped through the file before finally answering Goren's question. "Limited desk duty," he said after a moment. "I will not return you to full duty until your arm is healed and the cast comes off for good."

"But..."

The doctor cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No 'buts', Bobby. Do you need me to write something for pain or not?"

"No."

"Have it your way. Let's get a new cast on that arm."

After applying a new cast and telling Goren he wanted to see him back in three weeks, Wrightweiler watched him slide from the exam table and leave the room, as he did after every visit. The doctor smiled at Eames, meeting her at the door and handing her a prescription, as he did after every visit. With a smile, he said, "Do your best, Alex."

She returned his smile and replied, "Thank you," as she slipped the paper into the pocket of her jeans and settled Molly on her shoulder, following her husband down the hall.

* * *

"I don't know why you have to be so stubborn," Eames scolded as she took off her shirt in the exam room of Steven Burke's office, too annoyed to be modest.

"Would you please drop it?"

He turned toward her to make another point as she slipped off her bra before grabbing the exam gown from the table in front of her. He lost his train of thought entirely and stared at her as she unfolded the gown and slipped it on. Turning her attention back to him, she met his eyes and smiled. "Okay, I'll drop it if you'll be reasonable."

"I don't need any medicine. I told you I can handle it; trust me."

Those two words always did her in. She knew how important trust was to him, and she did trust him. "One condition," she replied as she sat on the exam table. "Promise me you'll take it if you need it."

"All right," he conceded, his eyes straying from her face to her chest, against his will. "If I need it."

She watched his eyes and smiled, but a knock interrupted her before she was able to translate teasing thoughts into words. Burke came into the room and smiled at them. "How are you folks doing today?" He walked over to Goren and laid a hand on his arm. "Let me see this little sweetpea."

He smiled warmly as he gently touched her cheek and patted Goren's back. "Beautiful," he commented. "How is she doing?"

"Fine," Goren answered. "She should be able to come off the oxygen in a few more weeks."

"Wonderful." He crossed the small room to the exam table. "And how are you doing, Alex?"

"I feel great."

"Let's take a look."

Forty-five minutes and a clean bill of health later, they left the office. Asking him to wait a moment, she set Molly in his arms and disappeared into the bathroom before he had a chance to object. After washing her hands, she pulled out her phone and called Logan. _How'd it go? _he asked.

"Fine. How are Maggie and Tom?"

_Great. Maggie brought home a 'pitcher' she drew for Daddy to cheer him up. Has he been upset?_

"Yes and no. You know how she always picks up on his moods. I need a favor from you, Mike."

_Name it, sweetheart._

"Can you keep the kids until after dinner?"

_Sure. I have s'ghetti. Is everything all right?_

"It will be by the time you bring them home."

There was a moment of silence before he started to laugh. _Gotcha._

Ignoring his laughter, she answered, "Thank you, Mike."

Replacing the phone in her pocket, she left the restroom.

* * *

They arrived home after a quiet ride. Eames settled the sleeping baby in her crib, hesitating over the bed to watched her sleep. Like Maggie and Tom, she was a happy baby who rarely cried and was easily comforted when she did. She had dark eyes and sparse dark hair, long eyelashes and full, round cheeks. Most babies her age did little more than eat and sleep, but Molly spent an unusual amount of time awake, intensely interested in the world around her. She was six weeks old, and Eames could already see her resemblance to her father. She smiled and reached down to touch a little hand.

The bedroom door eased open and Goren poked his head into the room. "Alex, I'm going to run over to Mike's and get Maggie and Tom."

She looked at him for a moment before stepping away from the crib and walking to the door. She kept her eyes focused on his as she pulled the door open and gently grasped the front of his shirt. "They can have dinner with Mike and Carolyn," she murmured as she pulled his body against hers.

"Alex..." he began, but his protest was weak.

When she began to unbutton his shirt, he grasped her wrists in a gentle hold and softly said, "Stop. You had surgery..."

"Six weeks ago," she interrupted with a frown. "And now I'm fully recovered. You heard Dr. Burke. I can go back to work and resume all my normal activities. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"Let me be the judge of that."

Her frown darkened. "So you're going to punish us both because you can't get past a misplaced feeling of guilt over what Hammond did? I am not fragile, Goren, and I will not let you force me into celibacy because of some guilt trip you're on."

He stepped back from her, frowning. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Forget it," she snapped, turning away from him.

"I won't forget it," he said, following her across the room. "I want to know what you meant by that."

Instead of answering, she opened the closet door and began to unbutton her shirt. "I meant what I said," she replied, slowly sliding her shirt off her shoulders.

"A-Alex..."

Ignoring him, she undid her bra and let it dangle from her index finger. Turning toward him, she unbuttoned her jeans and lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. Slowly, she ran her tongue over her lips. "I will not wait another day," she whispered.

He stared at her, eyes shifting from her lips to her chest, and she watched his resolve waver. "Are you...are you sure...I can't hurt...you?"

"Positive," she promised, pushing her jeans over her hips with a seductive wiggle.

When he didn't move, she finished undressing, taking great care to exaggerate her movements. Then she returned to him, reaching out to finish unbuttoning his shirt. When her fingertips caressed his chest, trailing a line of heat over his abdomen to his waist, his resolve crumbled. With a soft growl, he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss. She responded with equal hunger, undoing his jeans and shoving them over his hips as she pushed him roughly toward the bed. When she was through with him, no doubt would remain in his mind—about anything.

* * *

Maggie was excited as she slipped her new shirt over her head and put on a new pair of jeans, the ones with the pink butterfly embroidered on the pocket. Daddy got them for her, just because she liked them. She rarely ever asked for anything, but if she really liked something, Daddy or Grandpa or Uncle Mike usually got it for her. Mommy always scolded them for spoiling her, but she did it with a smile, so Maggie knew she wasn't really upset. And they always got something for Tommy, too. Now, she was certain, they would include her tiny sister. She shuffled through her drawer for her pink butterfly barrettes and went in search of her mother.

She found her in the living room, holding Molly and talking to her. Climbing up onto the couch beside her, she smiled and gently grasped the baby's hand. "When's she gonna get bigger, Mommy?"

"That is going to take some time, Maggie. She started out so small, but she'll catch up."

"Gramma is going to like my new baby, isn' she?"

"Of course she will. And she'll be very happy to see you and Tommy, too."

Smiling, Maggie held out her barrettes and a brush. "Could you he'p me with my hair, please?"

Eames settled the baby in her lap and drew Maggie in front of her. She brushed Maggie's dark curls and snugged the barrettes in place to keep the unruly hair from her daughter's eyes. "There you are. Where's Daddy?"

"Thank you, Mommy. He's he'pin' Tommy. I'll tell him to hurry. Gramma ala'ys gets happy to see us."

She watched the little girl trot off toward the bedrooms and smiled. Maggie always left happiness in her wake.

Maggie poked her head into her brother's room, but no one was there so she crossed the hall to her parents' room. Tommy was running around the room, wearing just a pair of jeans and giggling. Goren came out of the bathroom with a warm, wet face cloth. "All right, tiger. Come here."

With a growl, Tommy ran at the bed, scrambled up onto it with a skill born of long practice and ran to launch himself at Goren, who easily caught him with his uninjured arm. They laughed and Maggie smiled, stepping into the room as Goren cleaned the toddler's face. She was happy that her father didn't seem as troubled any more. She knew her mother would fix his mood; she always did when it got very dark. Tommy clapped his hands when he saw her. "Maga! Pay!"

"You gotsta get dressed, Tommy, so we can show our baby to Gramma."

Goren grabbed a little shirt and slid it over Tommy's blond head. Maggie stepped up to the bed as Tommy sat down to have his shoes and socks put on. Goren looked at her. "Mommy helped you with your hair?"

"Yes. You're not ready, Daddy."

"Not yet. I've been chasing your brother. There, little man. Go show Mommy."

Tom slid off the bed and scurried out the door, calling, "Mama! D'essed! Me gotta sooos!"

Goren smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Maggie. She stepped up to him and reached out, fingering an old scar. "Can I ask you somethin', Daddy?"

"Go ahead."

"Can anybody see in my window?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because we're on the third floor, well above the sidewalk, and your curtains are usually drawn."

"But at night, when the window's open, they're not."

"No, but the light is out. Why?"

"'Cause yesteddy...I thought the mean lady...was watchin' me."

Before he could answer, Eames appeared in the doorway. "Are you ready to..." She stopped at the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"W-We'll be right there. I have to talk to Maggie."

She nodded and returned to the living room, where Tommy was standing beside the couch, holding Molly's hand and talking to her. Molly was intently watching his face.

Goren drew Maggie up onto his lap. "Why do you think the mean lady was watching you, mouse?"

"I thought I sawed her inna window."

He shook his head. "No one can reach your window, baby, except Mr. Collins with his ladder. But the middle of a January night is not a time he would be up on his ladder fixing anything. No one was looking in your window."

"But she...she doesn' do thin's you ispect."

"That's true. She did plenty of things I never expected. But she can't pull anymore surprises on me now."

"Why? When she was inna jail, you didn' think she could hurt us, but she was gonna try. So we hadda go to the woods an' get baby Sean there."

He kissed her forehead and softly sighed. "While you were in Maine, I arrested the mean lady."

"An' you sended her back to jail so she could get out again?"

"No, baby. After I arrested her, someone hurt her badly. The doctors couldn't help her. She died and she will never hurt anyone again."

Maggie rested her head against his chest and sighed but she made no reply at first, idly poking at the scar of an old bullet wound in his abdomen. He let her take the time she needed to form her response. "How am I s'posed to feel 'bout that?"

"How do you feel about it?"

"Wrong, I think."

"Wrong? What makes you say that?"

"I feel...glad that she can' hurt peoples no more. But that's wrong. I shouldn' feel that way."

"Okay. How do you think you should feel?"

"Sad...because she got hurt and died. It's wrong to be glad someone got hurt or died...even bad peoples. But I can' he'p how my heart feels. Are you sad about it?"

"Part of me is, but part of me isn't."

"Is it okay if you feel good an' bad about stuff?"

"Sometimes, yes."

"So maybe that's how I feel, too...on'y for a diff'rent reason."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel glad b'cause she can' hurt nobody no more, but I feel bad b'cause I feel that way."

He gave that some thought. "That's...fine. It's okay to feel like that."

"Did you like her, Daddy?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Part of you is sad b'cause she died."

"That doesn't mean I liked her. It just means...I don't like what happened. That's all."

"Does that mean you gotta sof' heart?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"I heared Mommy say it."

He laughed quietly. "Mommy has always thought that. It means that sometimes I feel sorry for the wrong people."

"But you can' he'p the way your heart feels."

"Not always, no." He kissed her head. "Now go help Mommy with the little ones and let me finish getting dressed."

"Okay, Daddy." She stopped before she slid off the bed. "So...I was dreamin'?"

"Probably, yes, but I'll take a look in the snow under your window before we go, to make sure it hasn't been disturbed."

"Okay." She hugged him, slid off the bed and trotted from the room. He smiled and walked to the closet to get a shirt and tie.

* * *

They knew the routine. Eames remained with the children in the waiting area near Sylvia's desk while Goren went to check on his mother. He knocked on her door, as he always did, before entering. She was seated by the window, watching the snow. Turning toward the door, she smiled, but her smile faded when he came in alone. "Where are my grandchildren, Bobby?"

"Alex is bringing them, Mom."

Frances frowned. "You didn't screw that up, too, did you, and chase her off?"

He frowned. "No, I didn't. I just came to make sure you're doing all right before we bring the kids in."

"The forward scout?"

"Give me a break, Mom. If you're having a bad day, I'm taking the kids home."

Frances sighed impatiently. "I'm fine, son. I just want to see those children. I've been looking forward to seeing them all week."

"I know you have. They have, too."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him expectantly. He raised his hands and said, "All right. I'll be right back."

He headed down the hall, pondering the interaction, which wasn't sitting quite right with him. He considered taking the kids home, but then wondered if he was overreacting as he motioned to his family to join him. The nurses said she was having a good day, after all. He would never second guess his gut again.

* * *

Frances handed her tiny granddaughter to Eames and gathered Tommy into her lap. "That's one thing you have done right, son," she said as she hugged the toddler in her lap.

"What's that, Mom?"

"You have made beautiful children."

He nodded agreement, wondering at her ability to compliment and criticize in the same breath. His eyes strayed to his wife, where he found the encouragement he sought in her eyes. Then he looked at Maggie, who was running a light finger along the gilded edge of a framed photograph of him and his brother. She'd seen it before and he knew to expect more questions about the mysterious Uncle Frank she had never met. He wondered if she ever would.

Maggie turned from the picture and looked at her grandmother with a curious tilt of her head. "Daddy does lotsa thin's right, Gramma."

"Maggie..." Goren shook his head.

"But you do, Daddy."

"Let it go," he said quietly.

He was used to his mother's criticism and disapproval...so used to it that it did not occur to him until later that she had never openly criticized him in front of his children before.

Maggie turned back to the picture and Tom sat happily in his grandmother's lap, playing a game of pat-a-cake with her. Everything was fine...until Frances Goren's mind began to slip away...

Goren turned toward his mother at the sound of his name, but she wasn't talking to him. Too late, he saw the signs, and she escalated quickly. Her scolding tone rapidly disintegrated into fury as she yelled at the little boy in her lap, spinning him toward her and calling him 'Robert.'

Goren swore and ran across the room as she began to slap the toddler, who started crying, which fed her fury. 'Never cry... ' the warning words came unbidden to his mind.

At the same moment her father charged toward his mother, Maggie, who was closer, moved, too. Ignoring the swinging fists of the woman she did not recognize as her grandmother, she grabbed her little brother around the chest and yanked him from Frances' lap, dragging him out of range as her father grabbed the screaming woman. She sat on the floor on the other side of the room, cradling her sobbing brother in her lap, her quiet sobs melding with his as she looked for her mother.

Moments later, the door opened and several people she recognized only in passing came charging into the room. Then her mother was there, pulling her gently into an embrace as she took Tommy from her lap. Reluctantly, Maggie let Eames take him and she followed her from the room as her grandmother's screams and swears got louder. Maggie heard the sounds of fists meeting flesh and she cringed. "What about Daddy?" she sobbed, starting to turn. "I gotta he'p Daddy."

Eames gently grabbed her arm. "Daddy will be all right, baby. Stay with me and help me with Tom."

"Where's my Molly?"

"Miss Sylvia has her."

Maggie nodded as Eames led them to the nurses' station where a kind, attentive nurse named Mandy tended to them. Tommy's nose was bleeding and his eye was bruised, and Maggie had a bruise on her cheek. Tom held fast to his mother's hand, still sobbing. Maggie continued to look down the hall, toward the screaming, waiting for her father to appear and trembling with fear that Gramma was going to hurt him, too. Neither her mother nor Nurse Mandy could reassure her. She would not settle until she knew he was unharmed.

Twenty minutes later, Goren stepped from the now-quiet room and started down the hall toward the nurses station, distracted as he wondered how he could have missed it until it was too late. Usually, he knew, and with the children present, he was even more vigilant. Had he ignored the small clues that he knew could mean a break was imminent, hoping he was wrong? He knew better.

He was drawn from his reflections by a shout and he caught Maggie in his arms, lifting her and settling her on his shoulder as she began sobbing again. Tommy was in his mother's arms, now quiet, but holding on for dear life. His eyes searched the area and Eames told him, "With Sylvia."

He nodded, but he would not look at her face. He knew that he would not like the look he saw there. He should have known. She was never going to trust him again.

Eames thanked Mandy for tending to the children. "I'll call later," Goren told her.

They headed for the reception desk to retrieve their youngest child and head for home.


	3. Never Again

**A/N: I am much happier with this revised version. Anyone who has comments but is unable to review is certainly welcome to send me a PM. Sorry for the delay. My daughter was readmitted to the hospital for another five hours in surgery and a ten-day stay. She is finally feeling better but will return for more surgery in two weeks. At that point we hope to be able to finally start dialysis and stabilize her health in time for school to start. She's a trooper.**

* * *

Maggie walked toward the car in silence, holding tightly to her father's fingers where they extended past the limits of his cast. Every few seconds she would glance up at him and the baby in his other arm, and then over at her mother, who held Tommy. The little boy's head was resting on her shoulder, the bruise on his eye darkening and spreading. This was worse than when he fell from the tree. He had been hurt by a person, someone they loved, and she was at a loss to explain how that could happen. But she sensed that now was not the time for questions. Waiting patiently for Daddy to set the baby in her carseat and buckle her in, she rested her hand against his leg, unwilling to break contact any sooner than she had to. Maggie needed reassurance and, like her dad, she sought it through physical contact.

Pulling out of the car and straightening to his full height, he looked down at the little girl waiting at his side. He understood what she needed and squatted in front of her, tipping his head to the side when she glanced away. She let him catch her eyes and felt the sting of unshed tears. He placed a gentle finger under her chin and guided her face around so he could look at her. She returned his scrutiny, reaching out to touch a bruise on his cheek similar to the one she had received. He was not aware it was even there. "Is that how Gramma's brain is sick, Daddy?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Why did she hurt Tommy if she thinked he was you? Mommies aren' s'posta hurt their kids. I..." She huffed in frustration, her young mind reeling from all the implications. "I don' unnerstand, Daddy."

His own frustration matched hers and he dropped his knee to the cold ground, gathering her onto his lap and hugging her. His mind was made up. He would not have his mother doing to them what she had done to him. His children would grow up safe and secure. He had a feeling deep in his gut that Alex would forbid any more visits, and she would get no argument from him, but it was still a painful decision to make. Gently, he rubbed Maggie's back and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. He had no idea what to say to her. The explanation had escaped him his entire life. How could he explain it to her? Should he even try? "It won't happen again, baby."

She brightened a little, though a glimmer of suspicion shone in her eyes. "Gramma's gonna get better?"

"No."

She studied him with dark, intelligent eyes, her suspicions confirmed. "Are you gonna not let us see her no more?"

He wouldn't look at her. He shifted his weight in preparation for setting her on the ground.

"Come on, mouse. Let's go home."

It wasn't often he refused to answer one of her questions, but in his avoidance, she had her answer, although she had no intention of accepting it as final. She was quickly learning the art of negotiation. She also recognized his withdrawal but sensed this was a time to let him go...for the moment. She would only allow him to retreat so far, though. As he started to ease her to the ground, she twisted her body and threw her arms around him. He stopped, returning her hug. When he set her down, she stepped back and sought his eyes. "Gramma hurt you again, too."

Her perceptiveness disturbed him. "Get in the car now, Maggie. We need to get going."

She frowned, but did as he told her and climbed into the car. Making sure she was properly buckled into her booster seat, he looked over at his son, who was watching him quietly. "How are you now, little man?"

"Gotta owie, Dada."

"I know you do."

"Wanna 'ug."

He nodded, kissed Maggie and walked around the car to give Tom a hug. The little boy held tight to his neck and he waited for Tom to release him. "Gamma mad?"

"No, buddy. Gramma wasn't mad at you. She was confused." He kissed the boy's forehead and pulled out of the car.

As he slid behind the wheel, he heard Maggie talking to her brother. "No, it wasn' you, Tommy. Gramma thinked that you was Daddy. Sometimes her brain gets jumbled."

She still couldn't understand why thinking Tommy was Daddy would make Gramma want to hurt him, no matter how hard she thought about it. She looked toward her father, confused and wondering if he was going to discuss this with her. She wanted to understand. Daddy didn't seem to think that was important, but to her, it was. She turned her attention back to Tommy.

Bobby looked into the rearview mirror and saw that Maggie was holding Tom's hand across Molly's seat as she comforted him. Their arms were resting lightly on their baby sister. His children were very close to each other, and that was something he had, so far, done right. He wished it had been the same with Frank, but it never was. Once their mother got sick, Frank, too, began slipping away from him.

He started the car and, finally, hazarded a glance at the seat beside him. Alex was looking out the window, arms crossed, tense. She was frowning and he thought better of saying anything to her. One of two things was going to happen, and he had the ride home to prepare himself. Either she would avoid discussing it and ignore him for the rest of the night, or she was going to lay into him, looking for an outlet for her anger. Whichever it would be, he was in for a difficult time.

His thoughts strayed as he drove. _Gramma thinked that you was Daddy...Why did she hurt Tommy if she thinked he was you?_ She was not going to let this one go. She needed to understand, but he wasn't sure anything he could say would sate her curiosity. His gut was churning and he struggled mightily with overpowering emotions. He had wanted to keep that part of his life from touching his children, but he should have known better. In finally agreeing to allow his children to visit his mother, he was taking a big chance. But with combined pressure from his mother and his wife, he had relented and let the children visit Carmel Ridge. He knew better. He knew that he was tempting fate. Now, he had to deal with the consequences of his poor judgment, and he prayed the damage could be undone. Glancing again in the rearview mirror, he saw that Maggie and Tom still held hands, even though Tom was now sleeping. Concerned and confused, Maggie was looking toward the front seat, watching him. He could see by her expression that she was trying to figure out what was going on, but she was unable to do it on her own. She would need his help to get past this, and he was not sure he would be able to give her what she needed. He had never let her down before, and it killed him that he might have to now. He returned his attention to the road, wishing there was some way he could avoid going home; he knew there was not.

He heard movement on the seat beside him and he looked at Alex, but she had turned in her seat to look at the children. He looked away.

By the time he parked the car outside the apartment, he was nauseous from a combination of stress and the unrelenting throbbing in his arm, which was worsening. He looked down the street. Several blocks away, there was a bar that he used to visit much more frequently than he had lately, and the desire to head there now hit him hard. With difficulty, he chased it away, struggling also against the urge to withdraw, to avoid the conflict he felt brewing on the horizon. He had to go inside, whether he wanted to or not. There was no avoiding the fallout of the day's events and postponing it would only make matters much worse.

He slid out from behind the wheel and opened the back door, helping Maggie to the ground. She trotted in front of him, standing on the sidewalk, patiently waiting. He opened the door and gently lifted Tom from his carseat.

Alex leaned against the passenger door, waiting for him to step away so she could get the baby. As well as she knew him, she could not even imagine what was going through his head, guilt aside. He always felt guilty about something and this, she knew, would eat at him as nothing had before. He stepped away, refusing to even glance in her direction and she swallowed a surge of irritation. She was torn between a powerful desire to be angry with him and an equally powerful need to reassure him. She could not predict which would win out once they got the children settled and they had to deal with each other.

Maggie watched Bobby step back from the car, deliberately avoiding Alex. He settled Tommy on his shoulder and held out his hand to her. She grabbed it and held on tightly as she walked at his side. She never had to scurry to remain beside him. Always, he altered his stride so she could easily keep up with him. It had become an unconscious adjustment for him.

Once inside the apartment, Maggie slid out of her coat and hung it on the bright red hook that Daddy had put in the wall behind the door for her. Tommy's was blue and, a couple of weeks ago, he'd added a yellow one for Molly. Right now, she was the one who usually hung up Molly's snowsuit, until the baby got big enough to do it for herself.

Bobby laid Tom on the couch and shrugged off his coat, hanging it up before returning to his son. Maggie helped him remove Tom's coat. She was hanging it up as her mother came into the apartment.

Alex looked toward the couch as Bobby lifted their sleeping son and sat down, settling the little boy on his chest. She wasn't surprised; he needed the reassurance that holding Tommy close would provide. He did not look her way, even though she hesitated, hoping he would. With a deep, silent sigh, she carried the baby to the bedroom.

Maggie looked from one parent to the other. She was worried about Daddy, but this was a big person thing and she knew there was nothing she could do to make him better. Only Mommy could do that. Determined, she followed her mother.

Watching from the doorway as Alex laid the baby on the bed and began to remove her snowsuit, Maggie waited. Once Molly was in her crib, she walked over to stand beside her mother and look through the crib's slats at the sleeping infant, the only family member who had been untouched by the events of the day. "Are you mad at Daddy?" she asked softly, instinctively zeroing in on her father's deepest concern.

Such a simple question and yet so complicated... Alex sighed. They struggled not to burden Maggie with the darker side of their relationship, with limited success. Bobby's profiling ability was born of his natural observational skills coupled with a deep understanding of human nature and a driven need to understand. Maggie was following in her father's footsteps, which did not surprise Alex one bit. One day, she was going to be every bit the profiler her father was. She had an uncanny ability to read them, and she was especially tuned in to Bobby. Still, Alex felt obligated to deflect Maggie's concern, to reassure without addressing the things that worried her, hoping she would let them go, even if she knew that would never happen. "Don't worry about Daddy and me, sweetheart."

Maggie did not have the ability to not worry about her father. "He didn' do nothin' wrong, Mommy. He doesn' tell Gramma how to be. He can' control her."

"I know he can't." Reaching out, she touched the bruise on Maggie's cheek and the same impotent rage she'd been feeling all along flared again. She knew it was irrational, but her children had been hurt and there was nothing she could do about it. She took Maggie's hand and led her away from the crib. She sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her daughter onto her lap, where she hugged her. "Are you all right, Maggie?"

"Yes, Mommy."

"That was a very brave thing you did when you took Tommy away from Gramma."

"I take care-a my baby," she said simply.

"I know you do."

She looked thoughtful. "Daddy said that's how Gramma's brain is sick," she said.

"Yes, it is."

Maggie hesitated a moment longer, trying to grasp something she could not understand, no matter how hard she tried. "Why does she hate Daddy?"

Slowly, Alex shook her head. "She doesn't hate Daddy."

"But...she thinked Tommy was him, and she hurt him. An'...she hurt Daddy. She hurt him b'fore, too."

Alex frowned darkly. "Before when?"

"Jus' b'fore. I seed him hurt, and I know Gramma did it."

"How do you know that?"

"B'cause he went to see her, and he was hurt when he comed back."

She couldn't imagine Bobby showing any injuries at all to Maggie...or to anyone for that matter. Even now, he was deeply private about the things that transpired at Carmel Ridge. She had seen the injuries, too, but she knew enough to let it go and not address the issue with him. She had no idea what to tell Maggie, and she felt it was best to let Bobby deal with her concerns. Her anger agreed with her. She cuddled Maggie for a few more minutes, then said, "Come on, baby. Let's see if Tommy is awake yet."

They went out into the living room, where Tommy was sitting in the middle of the floor, looking at a book. Bobby wasn't in the room. Maggie looked around briefly, then she looked at her mother. Alex motioned to Tom. "Go play with him. I'll talk to Daddy."

Maggie nodded and went to her brother, dropping to the floor beside him. She pointed to a picture and asked, "What's that, Tommy?"

"Effilent!"

"Ve'y good! That is a elephant!"

Alex found her husband in the kitchen, leaning heavily against the sink and looking out the window above it. She saw the glass on the counter beside his hand, and her anger faded. Concern won the battle for dominance inside her. "Bobby?"

He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. _Here it comes..._

She approached him and gently laid a hand over his. "Did you get hurt today?"

Out of reflex, he looked at her, his face a mask of confusion. That was definitely not what he expected. "What?"

"I asked you if you got hurt today, when you had to subdue your mother."

"I, uh, I'm okay." He looked away again, struggling. "I...I've seen her do this before. The signs are subtle and her break can be fast, almost without warning. But the signs _were_ there, Alex. I-I knew, but I didn't...see them for what they were, and that's my fault. This is all..._my_ fault."

She couldn't ignore the despair in his voice, and that struck a chord deep inside her. "I know it's your tendency to take the blame for everything, but this was _not _your fault."

Turning from the sink, he leaned back, crossed his arms and studied her with a pain-filled expression. His tie, undone, was still draped around his neck and his shirt was open, untucked from his pants. "Are you saying you don't blame me?" he asked, doubt in his tone.

His doubt annoyed her, but she fought it down before he picked up on it. She kept her voice reassuring. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying. Haven't you been telling me for years that schizophrenia is unpredictable?"

"She..." He stopped when his voice broke and closed his eyes for a moment, then he shook his head, changing course in his mind. He took a drink from his glass to distract himself and when he spoke again, his voice was steady. "I...have decided not to take the kids out there any more."

That surprised her, and yet it didn't. "Wait a minute," she said, this time unable to keep her tone neutral or reassuring. Her irritation was escalating and she couldn't keep it hidden any longer. "How can you..." She paused, unwilling to allow irritation to progress to anger. "How can you make that kind of decision without talking to me about it?"

Her aggravation made him uneasy, but his mind was made up. "Very easily. All I have to do is look at their bruises."

Alex continued to struggle for control of her temper. "It's not fair to punish everyone for something no one, least of all your mother, can control."

She was catching him off guard left and right, leaving him unsettled and floundering. He refused to waver from his decision, but he was curious about what she was thinking. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying if the nurses couldn't see it coming, how could you? They deal with her all the time and they are professionals, trained to see the signs and interpret them."

She had not lived his life and she would never understand, but he did not blame her for that. "I know my mother and I know what happens when she's on the verge of a breakdown. It's something I learned to read and predict at a very early age. While other kids my age looked for ways to get out of their chores, I was looking for ways to predict..." He stopped before finishing his sentence. He was going to say 'my next beating.' Instead, he said, "...When she was getting sick."

"Those nurses deal with her every day," she insisted. "If everyone else missed it, how can you blame yourself for that?" She watched his face closely. "I don't want to punish anyone for this, Bobby, especially not your mother."

He shook his head. "You're thinking I'm out of practice in reading her?" She didn't like his tone. "That's not something you ever forget how to do. Alex, you have no idea what it was like, and I am not going to take the chance that her schizophrenia is going to damage my children. It's not worth it. I'll continue to visit; that's _my_ responsibility. But I am going alone. I was doing that long before I ever met you. It's just the way it has to be."

"No, not the way it has to be," she snapped. "The way you want it to be."

He stared at her for a moment. "Want it? You think I want this? Alex..." He ran a hand over his hair, struggling not to raise his voice. "No...this isn't the way I want it. If I could have things they way I _want_ them to be, she would not have schizophrenia to start with. She would be the good mother she was before the disease robbed her of that ability. My brother wouldn't be a drug addict and my father would have been..." He trailed off. All he was doing was increasing his agitation and making himself angry.

"Your father would have been the kind of father you are."

He looked away, not answering. He was struggling to control overpowering emotion and it was getting the better of him. He finished the remaining amber liquid in his glass and focused on his breathing, forcing himself to calm enough to speak. "Yes. But it can't be the way I want it. It is what it is and that's what we're stuck dealing with. I am not going to risk letting them visit any more and that's all there is to it. She could really hurt them. When I was eight, she beat me so badly I was in a coma for three days. She broke my arm and bruised my liver. Dad told the doctors I'd been beaten by a gang of kids on the street and that was what had triggered my mother's breakdown. I...didn't remember what happened at the time, so that was what went into the records. Do you want to know what really triggered her breakdown? I was helping her with breakfast and I burned the toast. I am not subjecting them to that. I will _not_ take that risk."

She hid her reaction to his memory. _Only eight..._ He was right about one thing. In her wildest imaginings, she had no idea how horrible his childhood had been. A loving, involved father could have made a huge difference in his upbringing, offering some protection from his mother's illness, but he didn't even have that. She couldn't help wondering if there had been anyone in his childhood who had loved him, deciding there must have been, because he had, somewhere along the way, learned to love. She wanted to reach out to him, but she knew he would read it the wrong way, so she remained withdrawn, focusing on the topic of their conversation while struggling to keep it from disintegrating into a fight. "You don't trust yourself any more, do you?"

"No. I don't." He waved a hand toward the living room. "Look at those bruises, Alex!" he growled, angry. He grasped his white t-shirt and yanked it up toward his chin, revealing several nasty bruises still developing on his own chest and abdomen. "They could look like this! Any one of these hits could have caused critical damage to one of those children!"

A small gasp from the doorway drew their attention and Maggie came forward, followed by Tommy, who pointed at his father's chest as Bobby quickly pulled down his shirt, too late. Tommy reached up and tapped Bobby's thigh gently. "Owie, Dada. Gamma do't?"

"Yes, Tommy, Gramma did it," Maggie answered for her father, knowing that her grandmother had injured him, just as she'd feared, as she'd seen in the past.

Alex laid a hand on Maggie's head and continued the conversation they'd begun in the bedroom.. "When did you see that before, baby?"

"A coupla times. But Daddy didn' mean for me to see it. When you was inna hopsital with Molly was when it happen last. I seed the blood on his shirt when he comed home from visitin' Gramma. Uncle Mike was inna kitchen an' I went to see if Daddy was okay. That was when I seed what Gramma did."

Bobby quietly said, "I was trying to change my shirt before anyone saw the blood. It was my fault for not closing the door." He studied the children, their bruises bringing a new wave of pain to a conscience already heavy with guilt. "You won't have to visit Gramma any more," he said softly.

Immediately, Tommy shook his head. "No, Gamma," he said emphatically.

Bobby's eyes shifted toward his wife. "It's settled," he said with an air of finality.

Maggie looked from one parent to the other before settling her dark eyes on Bobby. "Daddy?"

"Yes, mouse?"

"I still wanna visit Gramma."

With a dark frown, he studied his oldest child. "Why, Maggie?"

"Because I still love her. You don' stop lovin' somebody 'cause she's sick. Her brain gets confused, but it's not her fault it does. Tommy's scared because he doesn' unnerstand that she's sick. I don' unnerstand how she's sick, but I know she is." She searched for a comparison. "You didn' stop lovin' me when I hadda flu, did you?"

"Of course not," Alex assured her.

"Then we shouldn' stop lovin' Gramma."

Alex leaned down and hugged her. Like her father, Maggie had a good heart. "No one has stopped loving Gramma, Maggie. Daddy just wants to protect you, that's all."

"But who's gonna p'tect Daddy?"

Bobby leaned back against the counter, looking toward the ceiling. He closed his eyes. He needed no protection, not from his mother nor from the demons that haunted him. He asked for no help to deal with his problems and he refused to become a burden to those he loved. So how did he go about convincing a five-year-old that it was not her place to worry about him when it seemed that was all she had ever done? Something brushed against his pants and he looked down when a little fist pounded into his thigh. Tommy held his arms up to him. "Uppy, pees, Dada."

Leaning down, he lifted the little boy and settled him on his left arm. Tommy pulled out the neck of his father's shirt and looked down at his chest. Letting go of the shirt, he leaned forward and placed a kiss over his shirt. "Aw bedder."

Bobby smiled at his son. "Yes, all better." He returned the favor, placing a light kiss over Tom's bruised eye. "There," he said softly.

Tommy smiled at him. "Aw bedder."

Snaking his arms around his father's neck, he squeezed. Bobby patted his back and sighed. If only a kiss could make all the pain go away. Life would be so much better. But some hurts just never got well and no amount of love could chase them away. Gently, he set Tom back on the floor. "Go play, both of you."

Tommy ran out of the kitchen, called, "'Mon, Maga. Pay in my yoom!"

Maggie studied her parents for a moment, finally focusing on Bobby. She knew something was not right with him, and that made her hesitate, even when Tommy called her again. She was afraid to leave him.

Bobby met her eyes and saw her concern; he understood her hesitation. A fresh surge of regret and guilt washed over him. "Go play with your brother, Maggie. Please."

Still, she hesitated until Tommy called her again. Finally, she turned and walked off after her brother. "I'm comin', Tommy."

Alex watched Bobby with concern as he refilled his glass with a hand that trembled. He grabbed a towel and wiped the counter. She suddenly felt reluctant to let him go to Carmel Ridge alone. When she spoke, her voice was soft, though what she said was not something she decided lightly. "At the very least, consider taking her with you. She has a connection with your mother, and you can protect one child more easily than three."

"Like I protected her when Nicole came calling?"

"Dammit, Bobby. Can't you ever let anything go?"

He gave her a weary look. "Don't you know me by now?"

He grabbed his glass and the bottle and walked out of the kitchen; he was done talking. As he walked down the hall toward the bedroom, he heard Maggie and Tom playing. The sound of their laughter reassured him more than anything else. Alex was right. He found it next to impossible to let go of the things that troubled him. His mother's illness had troubled him all his life...and now...that nightmare had touched the innocence of his children. That was something he would never be able to let go.


	4. A Choppy Calm After the Storm

**A/N: This chapter, once re-edited, ended up being much shorter than the first one, but the next chapter, which will be much darker (believe it or not), will probably end up being much longer. Once this one's all said and done, I may owe you guys some fluff!**

* * *

Bobby sat by the open window in the bedroom, his feet propped up on the desk chair as he leaned back in the rocker. His glass was propped on his chest, nearly full, and the room spun lazy circles around him, but he was still hurting. His arm throbbed mercilessly and his chest was burning. Rubbing a hand lightly over the gray t-shirt he had changed into, he winced and wondered if she had broken a rib this time. _Mom..._

He ran his finger around the rim of the glass, listening to the tone of its vibration. Taking a drink, he repeated the action, focusing on the difference in tone. He leaned his head back and watched the ceiling slowly dip and spin. It wasn't unpleasant. Shifting his hips as he balanced the glass, he found an almost comfortable position, and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Maggie dried off with a fluffy white towel while Alex put Tommy in the tub. She pulled on her underwear and pajamas before climbing onto the stool at the sink. Grabbing her brush from the counter beside the sink, she pulled it through her hair as she listened to her brother. "Mama, yook. Owie."

She turned and saw that he was pointing to a bruise on his thigh. "I see that," Alex answered quietly.

"Gamma do't?"

"No, honey," she said as she lathered a facecloth. "You got that at Aunt Reggie's."

"Oh."

Maggie brushed her teeth and stepped off the stool, quietly leaving the bathroom. Carefully, after softly knocking, she pushed open the door to her parents' room and slipped inside. She closed the door behind her and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Stooping to pick up Daddy's shirt from the floor, she placed it in the hamper. Looking toward the window, she could tell he was sleeping by the deep cadence of his soft breathing and the light snore that accompanied it. He didn't normally snore, but she'd heard him a few times, usually after he'd been out late with Uncle Mike.

She walked over to the chair and studied his face in the glow of the streetlight. When he shifted a little in his sleep, she reached up and took the glass from his chest. Looking into the glass, she thought by the amber color of the liquid it might be apple juice, but one sniff told her it definitely was not apple juice. She wrinkled her nose and set the glass on the desk. When she turned back toward the chair, her foot kicked a tall bottle that was laying on its side on the floor. She picked that up and set it beside the glass. The bottle was almost empty.

He moved again, shifting his injured arm and groaning. Stepping up to his side, she lightly rubbed his arm above the cast. He didn't react. He smelled like the juice that wasn't juice in his glass. It wasn't an unfamiliar smell, though it was a rare one. He didn't smell that way too often. Like his snoring, it usually only happened when he'd been out with Uncle Mike. Sometimes, she woke up when he got home. She never slept good if he wasn't home when she went to bed, so she would hear him come in. He acted kind of funny, but Mommy laughed at him, so she knew he wasn't sick or anything. He slept good those nights, too, without the restless dreams that disturbed his sleep. Mommy was the one who answered her when she came into the room on the early mornings that followed his late nights. She was glad when he could sleep. Most nights he didn't, and she knew that because she heard him sometimes, pacing in the living room or watching TV.

Reaching out, she ran her hand lightly over the area where she knew his worst bruising was. Leaning up, she kissed his cheek. Normally, she would crawl up into his lap and snuggle against him, but she knew Gramma had hurt him worse than usual this time. "Good night, Daddy," she whispered.

Stopping by the crib to check on her sleeping sister, she reached in to caress her tiny fingers. Molly sighed in her sleep and Maggie smiled. The room was cool because of the open window, and she covered the baby with her blanket.

Leaving the room, she pulled the door softly closed as her mother stepped out of the bathroom carrying Tommy, who was wrapped in a towel. "What were you doing in there, Maggie?"

"Nothin', Mommy. I jus' kissed Daddy good night."

"Is he awake?"

"No. He's sleepin' inna chair by the window."

Alex nodded. "Help me tuck Tommy in and then I'll tuck you in."

"Okay, Mommy."

She followed her mother into Tommy's room. Alex set Tom on his bed and sat on the edge of the mattress as she dressed him in his pajamas. Once dressed, he jumped up and hugged her neck.

Hugging—Tom had always communicated to the world around him by hugging. He hugged out of joy and uncertainty, sorrow and gratitude. Tommy had a hug for every occasion. But what made his parents smile the most was when he tried to distract an adult from something, like bedtime or something he just did not want to do. Because his adults knew exactly what he was up to, he was able to get away with it about half the time. When they stood firm with him, he always gave in, but not without the familiar giggle that was always ready to bubble up from his happy heart.

Once Tommy was tucked in, Alex brought Maggie into her room and settled her into her bed. From out of nowhere, Mischief appeared, curling up beside the little girl. The kitten had quickly learned to make herself scarce at bathtime after Tommy once decided she needed to be in the tub with him.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Daddy okay?"

Alex sighed. "Yes. He's just upset because Gramma is so sick right now."

"An' b'cause she hurted us?"

"Especially because she hurt you and Tommy."

Maggie became thoughtful for a moment. "Will he wake up tomorrow?"

"Of course he will, but he'll probably sleep a little late."

She yawned. "I needa let him sleep, don' I?"

"That would probably be a good idea." She leaned down and gave Maggie a kiss. "Good night, precious."

"G'night, Mommy."

Alex turned off Maggie's light and went into her bedroom. She was surprised at the room's much cooler temperature until she saw the open window. After turning on the lamp on her nightstand, she walked over and closed the window. She saw the bottle and glass on the desk and, judging from the position of his chair, she knew he hadn't put them there. Crossing the room, she picked up the bottle to see how much was left. She slowly shook her head, wondering if she'd be able to rouse him and get him to the bed.

Stepping to his side, she ran her fingers through his hair. It had been a long, hard day. Physically, she knew, Tommy would be fine. Emotionally, she felt he would recover with no lasting damage. Maggie, however, would carry this day with her for the rest of her life, just like her father would. They were so much alike, and their similarities became more striking as Maggie got older. She still wondered how she had missed it for so long.

Leaning over, she gently kissed him. He groaned and stirred, responding to her. His eyelids flickered and he groaned again, raising his hand toward her face. She pulled back a little. "Come to bed," she coaxed.

His eyes were unfocused and he blinked to clear his vision. She gently pulled his hand and he tried to get up. It took him three tries because the chair kept rocking, and she tried really hard not to laugh at him. With her help, he finally got to his feet and stumbled to the bed, where he collapsed with a deep groan of pain. She sat beside him, smoothing back his hair. "All that scotch in you, and it still hurts?"

He nodded. "Hurts like hell," he murmured.

She rested her hand lightly on his chest, gently rubbing the flat of her palm over his shirt. "Go back to sleep."

He needed little coaxing to drift off again, and she sat beside him, watching him sleep, until she heard Molly stir. She changed her clothes and moved the rocker back over to the side of the crib. She lifted the baby in her arms, talking and cooing to her. Molly settled and began to root for something to eat, which made Alex laugh. Easing herself into the rocker, she relaxed and fed her baby.


	5. Crisis

With a groan, Bobby shifted in the bed and turned onto his back. Slowly, he opened his eyes. In addition to the throbbing of his arm and the burning in his chest, his head was pounding. "Daddy?"

He turned his head toward the crib, where Maggie slid out of the rocking chair and approached the bed. "What are you doing in here, mouse?"

"Mommy telled me I could sit in here with you if I didn' wake you up."

"Why aren't you playing with your brother?"

"I was, but he's takin' his nap an' Mommy said I could sit with you." She studied his face and reached out a tentative hand to touch his cheek. "Are you sick?"

"No." He slowly sat up, and his chest screamed a protest. He swallowed a groan of pain, dropping his chin to his chest as he closed his eyes and struggled with it.

Maggie scurried from the room, finding her mother in the kitchen. "Mommy, do you gots Daddy's med'cine?"

Alex turned from the sink and grabbed a towel to dry her hands. "For what, sweetheart?"

"His arm hurts."

"Is he awake?"

She nodded. "He just waked up. I left him alone, jus' like you telled me."

Alex grabbed a pill bottle from the refrigerator and filled a glass with water. Maggie followed her to the bedroom.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, head resting on his left hand. She sat beside him and gently rubbed his back. "Maggie said you're in pain," she said softly. "Is it more than just a hangover?"

Slowly, he turned his head toward her. She knew from the bright pain in his eyes that it was and she held out the bottle, setting the water glass on the nightstand by him. He ignored the bottle, concentrating on her. "I...I'm sorry," he said softly, taking her hand. "I..." he looked away. "I was overwhelmed..."

Maggie approached them, stepping up to her father and placing her hand on his knee. He looked into her dark, intelligent eyes, filled with worry, and he saw a mirror of himself. A tremor ran through him and he touched her cheek. She placed her fingers on his hand and asked, "Why are you sorry?"

He didn't know how to explain it to her, so he replied, "I didn't mean to worry you."

She slipped alongside his leg to encircle his waist with her arms. He enveloped her in a warm hug, resting his cheek lightly on her curly head. His eyes closed for a moment. Opening them, he shifted his head and looked at Alex. "I...I guess I was kind of...useless...last night."

Alex shook her head. "We managed fine. Maggie was a big help. Does it matter if I say I understand?"

He met her eyes and he saw that she did understand why he had such a meltdown. His lips set in a grim smile and his hand strayed over his injured chest. He opened the bottle and dumped two pills into his hand, swallowing them with the water. He handed the bottle back to her and leaned down to kiss Maggie's head. "I'm going to shower."

"Don't get that cast wet," Alex cautioned.

Maggie moved out of his way as he rose and waved a hand, snapping, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

They watched him leave the room and Maggie looked up at her mother. "He's a little grouchy."

Alex laughed and hugged her. "A little. Come on. Let's make him something to eat. Maybe a shower and some lunch will make him less grouchy."

Maggie nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

* * *

The hot water helped relax his tense muscles and the pain in his chest eased. It seemed unlikely she'd damaged a rib, but she sure did bruise the hell out of it. The bruises on his chest were deep and purple. One of them, the one that hurt the most, was an odd shape, and he wondered if she'd managed to grab something before the nurses came in. He didn't remember if she had or not. All his attention had been focused on subduing her without hurting her. There was a very good reason he never, ever wore his sidearm, or even his backup, when he went to visit her.

By the time he finished his shower, the medicine had begun to work and the pain was fully manageable. He put on a clean pair of jeans and pulled a light blue dress shirt out of the closet. After slipping on a white t-shirt, he pulled it on and went to work on the buttons, deciding against a tie. Pulling on his socks and shoes, he left the bedroom.

The first thing he heard was laughter. Tommy was up from his nap. Pausing in the doorway to the living room, he watched the two children playing on the floor with their kitten.

His mind wandered to the past, and he wondered what it had been like before his mother got sick. He had few memories of his very early life, and most of those involved his grandparents. His father was absent from many of his childhood memories and his memories of his mother, for the most part, were not good ones. In many ways she remembered a childhood that was different than the one he had lived, but that was a manifestation of her disease: delusions and departure from reality. He often wondered if it was all a matter of perception anyway. But perception or reality, he was determined to do everything in his power to see that the memories his children formed were good ones. Maggie had already been touched by the hand of evil, and he desperately wanted to protect her from the rest of the world. It was a source of deep grief for him that he couldn't. He could not protect any of them from the evil in the world. All he could do was arm them against it with strength of character and love. Of the three of them, though, it was his son he worried most about. Fundamentally happy, Tommy had a sensitive soul that would be easily hurt by the world at large. A time would come when neither he nor Alex would be there to protect him, although something deep inside him told him that Maggie always would be. He smiled as he watched Maggie lean over and hug her little brother. Yes, Maggie would always be there for her baby.

Alex looked up from where she sat on the couch with Molly, frowning when she saw the dress shirt he wore. He hadn't prepared for a day with the kids. He was going out, and she didn't need three guesses to know where he was going. Half a second later, Maggie and Tom spotted him. "Dada!"

Tom ran into his arms, and he lifted his son with a wince of pain. Maggie, however, hung back, and he noticed. He gave Tom a kiss and set him on the floor. "Go play, buddy."

He watched as Maggie turned away and returned to the floor with her brother. With a sigh, he let her be, but he knew he was going to have to talk to her soon. He strolled to the couch and sat beside Alex, looking down at the alert baby in her arms.

Her round little face, not yet filled out with the fat of babyhood, looked elfin to him. He grazed his hand over the light fuzz that covered her head. Darker than Tom's hair, it wasn't as dark as Maggie's. In his estimation, she looked like she was going to be a good blend of both siblings. He was well aware that another little person had claimed his heart and would probably be walking all over him in another year, just like the rest of the family did. Molly kicked her feet and waved her arms at him as he adjusted the tiny oxygen cannula under her nose and she sneezed. It had already occurred to him that there was yet another cue he had missed the day before: his mother had not commented on the oxygen Molly still needed.

Shifting to the side, he placed a gentle kiss on Alex's temple. "I am sorry."

"I know," she answered. "I understand. But I'm not the one you need to talk to." She nodded her head toward Maggie. "She understands you very well, but she doesn't quite get what's going on with you right now."

"I know. I'll talk to her."

Before addressing his departure, she said, "I found Tommy in with Maggie this morning. He had a nightmare and she heard him before I did, so she took care of him. She comforted him and got him to go back to sleep."

"A nightmare...no..." He closed his eyes. "My baby."

She touched his arm, but he pulled away from her and she let him go. There would be no dealing with him until he calmed down, and that could take awhile.

Opening his eyes, he watched the two kids giggling at Mischief's antics with a little rubber ball and a piece of string. It didn't pass his notice that Maggie glanced toward him every few minutes. "She wants to fix him, just like she wants to fix me."

Resisting the impulse to reach toward him again, she said, "Just like you, she wants to fix the world."

"And how do we tell her it can't be fixed? Or do we wait for her to figure it out herself, like I did? It's a cruel world, and she's already had a taste of that."

She sensed a darkening of his already melancholic mood. "Bobby..."

He shook his head. "I should be going."

She knew the answer before she asked the question, but she asked anyway. "Where are you going?"

"Out to Carmel Ridge."

She looked down at the baby in her arms. "I thought, maybe, a nice quiet day at home would do everyone some good."

He was tempted. It would be so much easier for him to just remain at home but he had obligations that predated the responsibilities of his vows to her. He shook his head. "I...I have to go. You know that."

She suddenly felt deeply unsettled. "Take Maggie with you."

He stiffened. "No."

She kept her voice low. "I can have her ask you."

"Don't do that to me. I can't take her, Alex. Do you want me to tell you what I saw and what I felt the first time I saw her sedated and restrained? I was eight."

"So let her stay at the nurses' station. She'll be company for you on the ride out there and back. It will give you a chance to talk to her and reassure her. She's really worried about you."

"She worries too much for a five-year-old," he growled irritably.

"She takes after you."

"Don't remind me," he snapped as he pushed himself off the couch and went into the kitchen.

Maggie looked up and watched him stalk off stiffly. "He's still grouchy," she observed.

"Just a little," Alex agreed.

"He's goin' out. Is he gonna go see how Gramma's doin'?"

Alex nodded as she rose and laid Molly in her playpen. "Yes, he is. He has to go."

Maggie handed the string in her hand to her brother and told him to keep playing. Getting up, she followed her mother into the kitchen, but she remained in the doorway and listened.

"Bobby, please...you really don't need..."

He turned toward her from the coffee pot, sloshing coffee from his cup onto the floor. "What do you know about what I need, Alex? Whether I need to be alone or not? I've been dealing with this all my life and what I _don't_ need right now is to take Maggie with me!"

Maggie was taken aback by the venom of anger in his voice. She'd never heard that tone before and it scared her a little. But this was her daddy and there was something very wrong with him. The doctors and nurses would take care of Gramma. Daddy needed someone to take care of him, especially when he refused to let Mommy do it. "But I want to go with you, Daddy."

The coffee mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor as he realized she'd heard what he'd just said. He stared at her, and she decided she would do her best not to give him a choice in the matter. She knew he could make her stay home, but she was going to try her hardest to convince him to take her along. "I'll get dressed," she said, determined.

He frowned, confused. What the hell had just happened? Without saying a word, Alex began to clean up the shattered remnants of his cup. Looking at her, he could tell by her movements that she was very angry. "I'll get that," he offered, his tone subdued, contrite.

Without a word, she shifted her shoulders, dropped the ceramic pieces on the floor and left the room.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he leaned down and angrily grabbed at the broken ceramic, slicing a gash in his finger. Dropping to his knees, he watched the blood drip onto the floor. "Great. Just great."

* * *

Alex was watching Tommy play with Mischief and she looked up as Maggie came into the room wearing dark jeans and a pink sweatshirt with her white sneakers. Tommy looked up, too, and he realized what was going on. "Me, too!" he announced. "Me go!"

Maggie dropped to her knees beside him and said, "Not this time, Tommy. I gotta go with Daddy out to see Gramma."

Tommy's faced paled and he panicked. "No! No Gramma! No owies! No go, Maga! No go, Dada!"

Maggie hugged him. "Daddy's gotta go, and he shouldn' go alone. You can stay here with Mommy and take care-a Molly and Mischief."

He looked up at her, then scrambled to his feet and ran to his mother. "Mama!"

She gathered the sensitive little boy in her lap and reassured him. "It'll be all right, little man. Maybe we'll go over to see Uncle Mike this afternoon."

"Unna My?"

His little face lit up and Alex gently stroked his blond curls. "Yes, baby. We'll go see Uncle Mike."

Bobby came out of the kitchen with his hand wrapped in a bloody paper towel, not stopping on his way into the bathroom. Alex placed a gentle kiss on Tom's head and set him on the couch, motioning to Maggie to watch him. She followed Bobby, stopping in the doorway to watch him hold his still-bleeding hand under the running faucet.

Grabbing a hand towel, she smoothed it on the counter beside the sink. Gently, she took his hand and turned off the faucet. Placing his hand, palm up, on the towel, she patted it dry and leaned down to study the cut that ran half the length of his index finger. She pulled out the box of first-aid supplies from under the sink and began to clean and bandage his finger. Quietly, she said, "Talk to me, Bobby."

He hesitated before shaking his head. "I...can't," he murmured. "I don't know how to put it into words. There's...too much in my head right now."

"Maybe we can work through it. We'll never know if we don't try."

"Not now, Alex. Maybe when I get home tonight we can try. Just...don't expect miracles."

She heard the pessimism in his tone and she knew he was convinced he would not be able to work through his thoughts and emotions with her. She honestly believed there was nothing they could not get through if they faced it together, but she was still trying to convince him of that.

He shifted his weight as she wrapped his finger with gauze. Maggie, he knew, was going to be full of questions, and the last thing he wanted was for Alex to have to field questions that were, by right, his to answer. "I was hoping for a little more time before I had to do this," he murmured softly.

She looked at him as she reached for the tape. "Do what?"

"Explain my life to Maggie. I don't know what to tell her. I won't give her details of how it really was. She doesn't need to be haunted by a past she did not live, and I don't want to be responsible for causing her any more nightmares."

She smoothed her fingers over the tape and let them trail over his palm as she considered her next words carefully. "Sometimes it's easy to forget that she's only five. You don't have to tell her anything, Bobby. It's perfectly all right to tell her no."

He watched her fingers circle his palm. "And leave her imagination to fill in the blanks?"

"Do you really think that anything she could possibly imagine would be as bad as what you lived?"

He raised his eyes to look at her as he closed his hand around her fingers. She was right. There was nothing in Maggie's experience that would let her imagine how his childhood had been. That was marginally reassuring to him. But he still had to figure out a way to answer her questions without adding fuel to a fire that would generate even more questions. She flexed her fingers in his grip and he released her hand. "Thank you," he murmured, moving past her to leave the bathroom.

She put the first aid supplies away and followed him into the living room, where he was pulling on his overcoat. She watched him lift Maggie's coat from its hook and retrieve her hat and mittens. "You are going to stay with the nurses," he warned, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

She accepted the condition for the moment, recognizing the tone he rarely took with her and knowing it was not the time to debate him. There was still plenty of time for her to negotiate. "Ok, Daddy."

As he held her coat for her, Tommy slid off the couch and ran to them, once again in a panic. "No go, Dada! Maga, no!"

Bobby lifted the toddler in his arms and hugged him, patting his back as Tom rested his head on his shoulder with a quiet sob. "It's all right, Tom."

Alex came over and touched Bobby's arm. After a moment, he kissed Tommy and let her take him. Maggie hugged her mother's waist and patted Tommy's leg. Bobby gave Alex a quick kiss on the cheek and opened the apartment door, holding it for Maggie. He followed her into the hall and closed the door without a glance back.

In the back seat of the car, Maggie swung her legs into the seat in front of her and looked out the window. The sky was a heavy gray that promised snow. She remained quiet, thinking, as he negotiated the city streets. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Maggie?"

"Are you still grouchy?"

He sighed heavily. "I'm fine," he answered.

She hesitated, reading the unsettled tone of his voice. "That's not a answer," she complained.

He bit his lip a little too hard and he tasted blood. Yes, he was still grouchy. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "A little," he conceded.

"Is it a bad time to ask you a question?"

He wasn't sure he was up for one of Maggie's questions, but he didn't have it in him to discourage her curiosity. It was his natural curiosity that contributed largely to the few successes in his life, and it was from him she had inherited it. "What's your question?"

As Maggie sat in silence, gathering her thoughts to word her question the proper way to get the answer she sought, he thought about how amused Alex always was at Maggie's ability to spin him in circles. It was a ride he wasn't fully prepared for, but he would deal with it. Finally, Maggie spoke. "When did Gramma get sick?"

This was a conversation he never wanted to have with her. He had managed to avoid it so far, but the previous day's attack raised issues that would haunt her unless she had answers. "When I was little, just a few years older than you are now."

"Did she hurt Uncle Frank, too?"

She had seen pictures of Frank in his mother's room, so she knew who he was. "Sometimes."

"Will I ever see him?"

"No, Maggie, you won't."

He had not meant to sound harsh, but he did, and she looked sad. "You don' ever see your brother," she mused, more to herself than to him, it seemed. "I would be sad if I couldn' see my brother ev'ey day."

He sighed. "My brother is very different from Tommy."

Whether he intended to or not, he reopened a dialogue with her. "Is he sick like Gramma?"

The discussion was making him nauseous, but he had never been dishonest with her and he rarely avoided giving her the answers she sought, even to difficult questions. "No, not like Gramma. He's sick a different way."

"You don' see him 'cause he's sick?"

Recalling what she had said about not holding illness against her grandmother, he knew he had to word his answer carefully. Although his brother's addictions were part of the reason he refused contact, they were not the only reason. Subconsciously, he rubbed his upper arm. "It's a lot more complicated than that, baby. His illness isn't like the flu or a cold, and it's not why I don't see him. There are a lot of reasons."

"Like what?"

She wanted to understand because she could not imagine anything that would make her not want to see her brother. Bobby sighed heavily and swallowed his unrest. "I don't know how to explain it to you, Maggie. You won't understand and it's not something I can really explain to you right now so you will."

"Will I unnerstand when I'm big?"

"Probably."

"Can you tell me about it when I'm big?"

"If I have to."

A prolonged silence led him into a false sense that the conversation was over until she said, "You're not sick, are you, Daddy?"

He heard the worry in her voice. "No, baby. I'm not."

"Will you get sick like Gramma?"

His gut clenched and his nausea increased. "No. If I was going to get sick like that, it would have already happened."

"What about Mommy?"

"Mommy is fine, baby. Gramma's illness can't make her sick."

He tensed, waiting for her little mind to draw the next obvious conclusion, that she and her siblings could get sick like his mother. She didn't let him down. "So she can' make me or my babies sick, too?"

"You're fine right now, Maggie."

She studied him, and there was no mistaking the tension in his body. Her questions were upsetting him, and he was already upset enough, so she decided it was time to stop asking for now. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

He glanced at her in the mirror. "For what?"

"You're more upset now."

He sighed deeply and pulled the car over to the side of the road. Turning in his seat, he reached his hand toward her and she wrapped her fingers around his. "Don't be sorry because you want to know, Maggie. I'm the one who's sorry. I've been in a bad mood and I've taken it out on you. I shouldn't have done that."

"You just been grouchy. It's okay."

"No. It's not. I...I'm just having a bad day."

She nodded. "I know. I have bad days sometimes, too."

He tried to smile, squeezed her hand and turned back in his seat, pulling back onto the road. As they got closer to Carmel Ridge, Maggie asked, "Can I go into Gramma's room with you?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

She sighed and fell silent again, determined to give it one more try once they were there.

* * *

Bobby stepped into his mother's room, alone. Maggie had given one more try to changing his mind, as he'd expected, but he refused to cave to her this time. She didn't seem surprised, and she'd given him a kiss, and one for Gramma, when he left her with the nurses.

The smells and the sounds of the room and its surroundings were as familiar to him as the beat of his heart. She was laying on the bed, restrained and sedated, as he knew she would be. He moved away from the door as it opened and one of her regular nurses came into the room. "How are the children?"

"Maggie came back with me, but my son is still upset," he replied quietly.

"I am so sorry that happened."

"You and me both. I really tried to protect them from that side of her. Their memories should have been good ones, but now...I royally screwed that up."

"It wasn't your fault. This was unexpected."

He shook his head. "There were signs. I missed them. Or rather, I ignored them. I hoped I was wrong, but I wasn't."

She touched his arm sympathetically. "Don't beat yourself up over it. These things happen, unfortunately."

"How is she?" he asked by way of changing the conversation.

"Not good. We let her wake up first thing this morning."

"And?"

"It wasn't pretty."

This nurse was fairly new, and he realized that she was trying to spare him further pain. He appreciated her effort, but there was no need. He had been through this more times than he cared to remember. His mother's bad times had come to outnumber her good ones years ago. "She was looking for me."

"Not you, no. The little boy she thinks you are right now."

"My son."

She nodded, lightly touching his elbow, sympathy in her eyes. "Yes."

He looked away and continued to fill in the blanks. "She was yelling about demons."

She had a lot of respect for Frances Goren's son. Some families dissociated themselves from family members with mental illnesses, but this man was not like that. He was very involved in his mother's care, and he knew the patterns of her disease. "Yes, she was."

"If she wakes up now, she'll look at me and see my father."

He knew well how it went. She would yell at him to find that damn kid and teach him a lesson for running away from her. She would demand he chase the demons from her boy, so he would be good again. He remembered living through it the first time, and reliving it through her delusions was no less painful. Frank had escaped many of the beatings by staying out, leading her to believe he was studying with a friend when he was really out drinking and getting high. That had not changed. Frank was still gone and here he was again, taking care of Mom, being the responsible one. And he was so damn tired.

The nurse touched his arm. "You should probably wait for the doctor. There are other concerns."

He frowned. "Like what?"

"Her blood pressure is too low and she's developed an arrhythmia. They aren't sure yet what it means."

She gave his arm a sympathetic pat and left the room. Alone with his thoughts, he sat down in a chair near the bed, the weight of his world wearing heavily on his shoulders. As he waited for the doctor, his thoughts grew darker. Dangerously, he reflected on the people who were important to him. His mind stumbled over the course of his friendship with Mike Logan, and he realized Mike had been a better friend to him than he deserved. Mike had reached out a hand to a friend in need, and as payment, he'd received nothing but grief...a car accident in Texas that nearly took his life, a son born 500 miles from home, a painful bullet injury...

And Alex, the better half of everything he would ever be, deserved so much better than he could ever give her. Finally...his children...a sweet baby girl born too early because of his carelessness...a happy little boy now suffering from an attack he had failed to see coming...and Maggie...tears stung his eyes and his throat closed on him. _Maggie_...In the past, she had always been able to save him from the darkness in his soul that he constantly fought, but something had changed. The darkness had touched the ray of light he had clung to for the last five years, and that light had dimmed. The tenuous grip he had been able to maintain over the past few years was slipping, and he could find nothing inside him to reinforce it. If he had been thinking straight, he would have called his wife, or Logan, but he did neither. All he knew was that every life he had touched, in his estimation, would be so much better without the despair he brought them.

* * *

The nurses played with Maggie as their duties allowed, and there was always at least one sitting at the station with her. She kept looking down the hallway toward her grandmother's room, wishing her father would come out, but he didn't. Her concern increased when the doctor came and went and still, he didn't come out. "Is my daddy okay?"

"Yes, sweetheart. He's fine."

Maggie wasn't sure she believed her. She needed to see him to know for certain he really was all right. She wanted to go down the hall into Gramma's room, but she had promised him she would stay put. Daddy always kept his promises to her, and she would do the same for him. So she sat there and worried.

Fifteen minutes after the doctor left, Bobby came out to the nurses' station. He held his hands out toward Maggie and she scrambled into his arms. Setting her on a high counter, he caught her eyes and softly said, "I'm going to take you in to see Gramma, Maggie. You...you should tell her good-bye."

Tears welled in Maggie's eyes. "You won' bring me to see her no more?"

His own eyes moist, he answered, "I can't, baby. Gramma's going away, and she won't be here any more."

"Where's she goin'?"

"Gramma is dying, baby, and she doesn't have much time left."

She stared at his face, so filled with pain she hurt for him as well as for herself. Her tears spilled over onto her cheeks and she threw herself against his chest. Silently, he carried her back to his mother's room.

* * *

It was late when he carried Maggie to the car, sleeping soundly in his arms. She had asked him to call Alex more than once, but he had shut down on numerous levels. He was barely functioning, and thinking straight was one of the abilities he lost. He was convinced that he had already pushed Alex to her limit and he refused to trouble her further with his mother's concerns. She had enough to deal with taking care of his traumatized son. Tom would freak if he was brought back out to Carmel Ridge, and he wouldn't handle it any better if his mother left him behind to make the trip. So he refused to call, sitting silently beside his dying mother's bed while Maggie quietly read to her from the books Gramma had bought for her after her very first visit. _Where the Wild Things Are, Goodnight, Moon, The Cat in the Hat, The Very Hungry Caterpillar_...

He set her in her carseat and buckled her in. Sliding behind the wheel, he pressed his head against the steering wheel, but he did not start the engine right away. His mind was spinning in circles, spurred on by his emotional instability. He wasn't sure what was going on in his head. He only knew that he hurt, and there had to be some way to soothe that pain, to cope with the depression that had settled on him and now held him securely in its grasp. He had few coping mechanisms—only two, in fact, that he used regularly, both readily available if he sought to use them. He started the car and headed back toward the city.


	6. An Encroaching Storm

Mike was sitting on the floor with Sean when the doorbell rang. He got up and carried the baby to the door. Three month old Sean watched his father's face with interest. His attention was diverted when Mike opened the door and Tom hurtled through, wrapping his arms around Mike's legs. "Unna My!"

"Hey, Tom...What's up, buddy?"

Alex stepped through the doorway with Molly and closed the door. Mike hitched a finger over his shoulder. "Carolyn's in the kitchen."

Mike sat back down in the middle of the living room floor and Tom crawled into his lap beside Sean. He rested his head against Mike and said, "Maga an' Dada bye-bye. No Gamma."

Carolyn had told him what had transpired the day before at Carmel Ridge after she talked to Alex. He was worried about Bobby. "They'll be home soon, buddy. In the meantime you can play with Sean and me."

He gently laid Sean on the floor in front of him and poked Tom's belly until he giggled. By the time Carolyn and Alex came out to sit on the couch, the little boy was laughing and asking to play pony.

Alex leaned toward Carolyn. "You're lucky," she said. "He relaxes and doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He can let go and just laugh, have fun."

Carolyn sighed. "He can also be five, which is why he gets along so well with the kids." She paused before going on, "You knew what you were getting into, Alex. Bobby bears his burdens heavily. He feels things a lot more deeply than Mike ever will."

"How is that a good thing? He lives a tortured life, even with the love of a family to support him. He can never just let things go. Ever. He lets the past torture him."

"How is he any different than he has ever been? He never could let anything go. Even Nicole Wallace still torments him. But you have to be content with the thought that you do bring him happiness, even if it tends to retreat from time to time. He's never going to change, and you have to either accept that, or let him go."

"And suppose I can't do either?"

Carolyn shrugged. "Then your life won't change. _You_ will never be happy."

Alex sighed heavily as she cuddled her youngest daughter and watched Logan play on the floor with her son.

* * *

It wasn't long before Bobby's thoughts distracted him from the road and he just drove, not paying any attention to where he was driving. He did not return to the city.

His mind traveled over the course of his life and the profound negative impact his mother had on every aspect of it. Nothing he ever did was good enough. She had not approved of his career, of the care he provided, of the life he chose to live. He had done only one thing right in her eyes, only one thing she'd never berated him for: his children.

He had always been successful at keeping the darkest parts of her disease from touching his children, until now. Now the shadow of her disease had cast its darkness across the purest part of his life.

"Daddy?"

The little voice from the back seat drew him from his dark thoughts. He'd almost forgotten Maggie was with him. The sound of her voice refocused him. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Where are the lights?"

"What lights?"

She pointed to the darkness of the world beyond the car. "Outside. Where did the city go? When will we be home?"

He studied the road that stretched out in front of them, and he realized he had no idea where they were. He glanced at the time. Almost midnight. Alex was going to kill him. "Uhm, we're going to stop for gas."

"Did you call Mommy?"

"No."

She was quiet for a moment. "Can _I_ call Mommy?"

"Wait until we stop."

He stopped at the first convenience store he came across and left Maggie in the car as he stepped out into the cold. A bitter wind was blowing and it was beginning to snow. He fueled the car then walked around to the passenger side. Helping Maggie out of the car, he held her hand as they crossed the parking lot to the store.

Once in the warmth of the building, he handed his phone to Maggie and asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

"Do they gots hot dogs?"

"And apple juice?"

She nodded as she opened the phone. "Yes, thank you."

He smiled at her, but the joy he normally felt when he was with her was not there. He got her a hot dog, squeezing a line of ketchup on it, and walked to the back of the store to grab a bottle of apple juice for her. She followed him, still trying to place a call to her mother. He got himself a large coffee and they went to the checkout. He wondered just how far from home he had inadvertently wandered.

The girl at the checkout handed Maggie a lollipop. Maggie smiled and said, "Thank you."

Bobby handed her a ten. She smiled as she handed him his change. He gave her a shy smile as he asked, "Uh, how far is it to Manhattan?"

"You still have a ways to go...maybe four or five hours."

He was afraid of that. He pointed down the road the way he was heading. "Down that way?"

"Yeah. You're about ten miles from 81. Take that south to 17..."

He nodded. "I know the way from there. Uh...81...we're just outside..."

"Syracuse...yeah. There's a big storm headed this way. It's just starting. Be careful out there, mister."

"I will."

"You heading home?"

He pulled his keys from his pocket and picked up the coffee cup from the counter. "Yes. Thanks, and have a good night."

He handed Maggie her juice and picked up her hot dog. She waved to the girl behind the counter and grasped her father's coat as they left the store. He set Maggie in her carseat and buckled her in, making sure the seatbelt was snug, then handed her the hot dog and popped the seal on her apple juice. It was snowing more heavily, and the wind had picked up.

Maggie held out his phone. "It's not working, Daddy."

He looked at the display. No signal. "You can try again in a little while, baby."

He kissed her forehead and closed the door. Walking around the car, he slid behind the wheel and rubbed his forehead. _Damn_. He sure knew how to screw up. He never did anything half-assed, as Mike was so fond of pointing out. The first thing he did after starting the Blazer was shift it into four-wheel drive. Then he pulled away from the pump and out onto the already snow-covered highway.

* * *

The car lay on its roof in the center of the deserted highway, already covered in three inches of snow. There wasn't much traffic along that stretch of highway so late at night in a driving snowstorm. Well camouflaged in the driving snow, the white car was all but invisible until it was too late.

As soon as he spotted it, he knew he was going too fast to stop in these conditions. Turning the wheel hard, he sent the car into a spin and it careened off the road. He managed to stop the spin, but it was too late. Directly in the path of the car, a huge oak tree loomed, and he couldn't avoid it. He hit it at sixty miles an hour.


	7. Surviving

It was cold and the wind howled around the Blazer. Maggie shivered and then she started to cry. Her head hurt and so did her leg. The back of the front seat was a lot closer than it should have been. She touched her cheek, which felt wet. It must be the snow. She shivered again. "Daddy?"

There was no answer. She tried to see him through the darkness, but all she could make out was an undefined shape against the white snow beyond the car. She couldn't hear any movement. "Daddy?" she said a little louder. Everything was so still. "Daddy, I'm cold...and my leg and my head hurts."

She reached down to the seat buckle and pushed the button, releasing herself from her booster seat. Moving her leg carefully, she climbed over the seat back into the front seat and crawled to her unconscious father."Daddy?" she sobbed, patting his cheek.

Wanting to warm herself, she opened his coat and curled into his side. She cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Bobby groaned and opened his eyes. He remained still for a moment, waiting for the pain in his body to settle. He shivered and raised a hand to his throbbing head. It came away bloody, and his mind was slow to clear. He looked at the time. Almost four. It had been more than three hours since he'd gone off the road. He shifted in his seat and fire settled onto his right side, particularly in his hip and his knee. His arm throbbed, but didn't seem any worse than it had been. _Damn_.

He shifted his position and the pain flared in his hip and knee. He stopped again, waiting for it to pass. His mind cleared a little more, and he realized something was pressing into his side, beneath his coat. _Maggie..._

He shifted again, ignoring the pain as he gathered the little girl into his arms, holding her against his chest. "Maggie?"

She whimpered and pressed as close to him as she could get. "Daddy?" she sobbed and began crying again.

"Shhh," he whispered, cradling her. "Shhh. I have you. Are you hurt, baby?"

"M-My head hurts, and my l-leg."

He pressed his lips against the side of her head. Her hair was warm and wet, and he knew she was bleeding. He needed room to examine her more closely. Ignoring the screaming protest of his hip, he leaned over and opened the glovebox, feeling around for the flashlight he knew was in there somewhere. There was a Maglight under the passenger seat, but he'd never get to it.

Finding the light, he gave the inside of the vehicle a cursory examination. The front passenger side of the Blazer was caved in. Accidents were funny things. He'd seen a woman killed in a 35-mile-an-hour crash. Six months later, a man had walked away from a 70-mile-an-hour roll over with a bruised knee. Several things had combined to save his life and Maggie's: the seat belt he wore, the booster seat she'd been in, the air bag that had deployed on impact, and the fact that he had not hit the tree head-on. They had been very lucky.

Opening his door, he climbed out of the wrecked SUV into the snow, but when he took a step, his hip and knee gave out and he went down. He rolled onto his back, letting the snow fall onto his face, and he shivered again. Waiting for the pain to subside, he concentrated on his breathing. His chest burned where his mother had injured him, but the air bag seemed to have prevented further injury to that area. At least he was still able to breathe. Maggie crawled through the snow to his side. "Daddy!"

"I'm okay, baby," he managed, pulling her into his coat. She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his shirt.

He sat up slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hip. When he rolled onto his side, the joint popped and he doubled over. When his awareness once more extended beyond the pain, the first thing he heard was Maggie's crying. Quietly, he comforted her again.

When both Maggie and the screaming pain in his hip settled, he turned his full attention to Maggie, examining her quickly, but thoroughly, from head to toe. Aside from bumps and bruises, her head and her right leg were her major injuries. A two-inch laceration on her head didn't look too serious, but he knew she needed to have a CT-scan at a minimum to make sure there was no underlying injury that was more serious. Her leg was painful to the touch and he was afraid it was fractured.

He tried to stand again. It hurt like hell, but he was able to stay on his feet this time. He lifted Maggie in his arms and, limping painfully, he carried her to the Blazer. Opening the back, he set her on the tailgate and rummaged around for the first aid box that he knew was back there. Pulling it toward him, he opened it and took out two boards that were meant to splint an adult arm. Maggie held the flashlight while he splinted her lower right leg, wrapping it securely with an ace bandage.

"That's a big band-aid, Daddy."

He looked at her, and she smiled. Her face was bloody, but her eyes were bright and clear. He took a bottle of saline from the box and poured it on a four-by-four square of gauze. Gently, he cleaned her face. After that, he took a blanket and wrapped it around her. He kissed her nose. Lifting her from the tailgate, he held her high and she scrambled onto his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his chin and resting her head on his. Somehow, she held onto the blanket. She was warm against his head.

Remembering the overturned vehicle on the road, he took the discarded flashlight from the tailgate and limped slowly back toward the road. Halfway there, he realized he had to call in the accident, but he couldn't find his phone. Swearing silently to himself, he continued toward the road.

It took an effort to climb the embankment, especially with Maggie on his shoulders, and his hip and knee protested painfully, but he pressed on until he reached the deserted highway, where he sank to the ground beside a guard rail he had somehow managed to miss when he went spinning off the road. Maggie climbed down and snuggled against him, inside his coat again. "Can I call Mommy _now_?"

"I..I don't know where my phone is."

"Did it get broke in the car?"

"Maybe. Are you feeling any better?"

She shook her head. "I'm still cold and my leg still hurts."

"Your head?"

"It feels better. Are you okay, too, Daddy?"

"Don't worry about me, baby. I need to go over to that car there and see if there's anyone inside."

"I'll go with you."

He opened his mouth to protest, but then it struck him. Where would he leave her? Alone by the side of the road? Fat chance. He nodded and forced himself back to his feet, lifting Maggie back up to his shoulders.

As he walked toward the overturned vehicle, he studied the tracks in the road. No one had come by since he'd gone off the road, which wasn't much of a surprise on a night like this. His tracks were almost completely covered and there was no damage to the guardrail. It would have been spring before he was found if he'd been badly injured. Of course that was probably a preferable scenario to his wife finding out what he'd done. It was one thing to get his own stupid ass wrapped around a tree, but he had Maggie with him, and that was unforgivable.

He eased Maggie off his shoulders and slipped off his coat. Wrapping her in it to keep warm, he set her on the ground beside the overturned Jeep and dropped to his stomach beside the driver's window, shining the light inside. The driver was a man of about thirty. Reaching in, he felt for a pulse, but he couldn't find one. Then he heard a noise from the back seat. Turning the light's beam to the back seat, he found two children, both in car seats. A small boy a little younger than Maggie stared at him, upside-down, with wide, terrified eyes, shivering. Beside him, was an infant, small enough to be in a rear-facing seat. He heard soft sobbing coming from the baby.

"Hi," he said to the little boy, who continued to stare at him. He crawled to the back window and pushed the gathered snow away. Every window in the Jeep had been smashed out. "What's your name?"

"I-I don' kn-now you," the boy replied through chattering teeth. They had been there for awhile and the winter coat he wore was no longer keeping him warm.

"It's all right. My name is Bobby. I'm a police officer. I'm going to get you and the baby out of here."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his switchblade. "What's your name?" he asked the boy again.

"W-Wally."

"Okay, Wally. Do you hurt anywhere?"

"N-no. I-I'm j-just c-c-cold."

There was barely enough room for him as he wormed his way into the vehicle on his back. He checked over the little boy and found no injuries. "Okay, Wally, I'm going to cut you loose. I want you to hold very still. Let me see both of your hands."

When Wally held up his hands, Goren placed a hand on the boy's chest and sliced through the straps holding him into his car seat. Retracting the blade, he gently drew Wally to his chest. Trembling from the cold and from fear, the little boy grabbed onto him and held tight.

Reaching over to the other car seat, Goren sliced through the seatbelt and turned the baby's seat around to lower it to the inside roof of the Jeep.

"Okay, Wally. Let's get you guys out of the car."

"Wh-what about D-Daddy?"

"Let's take care of you and the baby first. What's the baby's name?"

"K-Krissy."

"Okay. Let's get you and Krissy out of here."

Slowly, he slid out of the Jeep, letting Wally remain on his chest and pulling the baby's car seat with him. Once free of the vehicle, he set Wally inside his coat beside Maggie. "Wally, this is Maggie. She'll help you get warm."

Maggie smiled at the little boy. He was a little bigger than Tommy was. "Hi, Wally. Our car crashed, too."

Wally studied her uncertainly for a moment before he moved closer and snuggled against her, still shivering. Maggie pulled the blanket from around her and covered them, then she pulled her daddy's coat more tightly around them.

Bobby checked over the baby, who was also cold but unharmed, and took her from the car seat. Gently, he set her in Maggie's lap beneath the blanket, once again tucking his coat around the children. Maggie talked softly to the baby and Wally got as close to her as he could.

Bobby looked around and decided he had to get the kids off the road, in case another car came by. He leaned against the side of the Jeep. "I need to bring you guys over to the side of the road. Do you think you can hang onto me, Wally?"

Wide-eyed, Wally nodded. Bobby took the baby and set her in her brother's lap, then lifted Maggie onto his shoulders with the blanket. She held on. Then he lifted Wally and the baby and grabbed his coat. The added weight had his knee and hip screaming, but he walked slowly across the road, opposite the side where he left the road. Dropping his coat, he set Wally down and then lowered Maggie from his shoulders. He was having trouble concentrating, though he had no idea if it was his head injury or hypothermia. He'd stopped shivering. He arranged his coat and set Maggie on it, coaxing Wally to sit beside her. He placed Krissy on Maggie's lap and again covered them with the blanket and wrapped his coat around the kids.

Wally studied him. "Is you hurt?"

"I'm all right. Do you feel warmer?"

"Yes. Is you really a policeman?"

"Yes, I am."

He pulled his badge from his pocket and handed it to the boy. The baby snuggled closer to Maggie, and so did Wally. Bobby leaned against the guard rail and took a few moments to gather his strength before starting back toward the car. "Daddy?"

He stopped and looked back to Maggie. "Are you cold without your coat? We gots the blanket."

She jiggled the edge of the blanket. He shook his head. "I'm all right. Keep my coat so Wally and the baby can get warm." He hesitated. "I...I have to go back to our car, Maggie. I'll be right back."

She looked worried, but remained quiet. Her arms tightened around the baby in her arms and she gripped Wally's hand tighter.

As quickly as he could, Bobby returned to his car and got the flare kit from the back of it. He also search for his cell phone until he found it. As he started back to the road, he called in the accident. His battery failed before he could complete the call, but he'd given the dispatcher enough information for the local officers to find the wreck. When he got back to the road, he set up the flares.

Just to be certain he checked the driver again, but the man was beyond help. No matter how many times he checked, he wouldn't have a pulse. He played no role in the young father's death. His heart went out to Wally and his sister, now fatherless. He returned to the children and leaned against the guard rail near them. The children were warmer and seemed all right. Wally and Krissy were uninjured, and he made sure Maggie was not in shock. She watched him with worried eyes, holding the sleeping baby against her with one arm and wrapping her other arm around Wally. They reminded her of her own brother and sister, and she felt compelled to take care of them. Bobby checked on the three of them every few minutes, to reassure himself as well as to give himself something to do. He let Wally hang onto his badge and gave Maggie the flashlight.

His hip and his knee were throbbing mercilessly but he did his best to ignore them. Wally and Maggie both watched him when he began to pace in the roadway. His pacing made the pain in his knee and hip worse, but it kept him awake. His mind was getting more sluggish but he was still not shivering any more.

He tried to keep his mind busy. "Where is your mommy, Wally?"

"Daddy was taking us home to her."

"Your mom and dad don't live together?"

"No. We live with Daddy on weekends and we live with Mommy the other days."

"Do you know what happened when the car turned over?"

"I seen a deer and then we was upside down and Daddy didn' talk to me no more. Krissy cried and he didn' talk to her, too."

He heard the sirens and watched as two patrol cars approached with caution. "Stay here," he said to the children.

He ruffled Wally's hair as he retrieved his badge and then lightly touched Maggie's cheek. He limped toward the first patrol car as the officer got out and shined his light at him. He held out his badge, then clipped it to his belt as the second officer joined them. He explained what had happened. One patrolman went to check on the children, putting them in his warm patrol car while they waited for the ambulance. Maggie knelt on the seat and watched her father talk to the other patrol officer.

The officer carefully watched Bobby as he talked. He examined the laceration on Bobby's head and noticed how cool his skin was. "You should sit in the patrol car where it's warm until the rig gets here. They're having a little trouble with the snow, but they'll be here in ten or fifteen minutes."

"The driver of the Jeep," he said, ignoring the officer's suggestion because he had to keep moving. "He's DOA. We need to find out how to contact the two little ones' mother."

The officer watched him lean back against the upside down vehicle. "Two?"

Bobby nodded. "Maggie...she's mine."

The officer looked toward the car where the children were and saw Maggie watching them. He looked past the car. "Where is your vehicle?"

He pointed. "About fifty yards off the road. Hit a tree. I, uhm, I splinted Maggie's leg." He rubbed the back of his neck. "My wife is going to kill me."

"Have you called her?"

He shook his head. "Battery died in my phone."

The officer pulled out his cell phone and held it out to him. Bobby looked at it for a moment. There was no sense postponing it. He took the phone and dialed.

Alex answered on the second ring. _Hello?_

"Hey. It's me."

_Oh, my God, Goren, where the hell are you?_

"Upstate, just outside Syracuse." She didn't respond. "Alex?"

_Syracuse? What the... _She drew in a steadying breath._ Is Maggie okay?_

"Yes."

Her voice was cool. _When do you expect to get home?_

"Uh, well...I...there's been an accident. The Blazer's totaled."

He could hear the tremor in her voice. _Was Maggie hurt?_

"I think her leg is broken. We're taking her to the hospital to get checked."

_We?_

"The local police are here."

_Where are they taking her?_

He looked at the officer. "She needs directions to the hospital."

He handed the phone to the officer and walked away. It was worse than he expected. She was focusing on Maggie because if she tried to deal with him she would lose her temper. She was going to save that for when she saw him.

The officer approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder, holding out the phone to him. Reluctantly, Bobby took it. "Yes."

_Stay put before you do any more damage. I'll get Mike to come with me and we'll be there as soon as we can get there._

"Be careful."

The line went dead. He sighed and handed the phone back to its owner, who said, "I assured her your little girl is fine."

It figured she wouldn't believe him. "Thanks."

"Why don't you come and sit down?"

Bobby waved a hand and walked away from him, pacing between the overturned Jeep and the two patrol cars until the ambulance arrived. The entire time Maggie watched him, wishing he would come and sit with her. She could make him feel better; she always could.

The ambulance arrived fifteen minutes later and after checking the three children, the EMTs loaded them into the ambulance. One of them approached Bobby after talking to the police officers. "Ready to go, detective?"

Bobby looked at him, confused and uneasy. The EMT grasped his arm and urged him toward the ambulance. Bobby climbed in carefully and sat on the stretcher. Maggie leaned toward him from the bench seat across from the stretcher and he caught her in his arms, pulling her against him. She sobbed in his ear. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"I'll be fine, mouse."

The EMT adjusted the stretcher so it was semi-reclining. "Ease back, detective."

Bobby leaned back and Maggie snuggled against him. Wally undid his seatbelt and scrambled over to his lap as well, settling in beside Maggie. She reached out and took the little boy's hand. Both children settled against Bobby's chest and he held them close. An EMT sat in the chair at the head of the stretcher, holding the baby. He turned the heat in the compartment on full as his crew chief climbed into the compartment to sit on the bench the children had abandoned. The third crew member closed the back doors, spoke briefly to the two officers and climbed into the driver's seat.

Maggie gripped her father's shirt in a fist and held tight. He brushed his lips across her temple. "How do you feel, Maggie?"

She yawned. "My leg hurts." She rubbed her hand over the cast on his right arm. "Is your arm okay?"

"Yes."

She felt his body shiver. "Are you still cold?"

"A little. Are you?"

"Not any more. It's warm in here."

The crew chief leaned in and said, "We examined the kids, but we haven't had a chance to look at you."

Bobby looked at the two kids. "Let them be," he said. "I can wait."

The EMT hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. He wrote on his clipboard. "Patient refuses examination at scene but consented to transport."

Silently, he observed the big cop and the little children in his lap as the ambulance made its way through the storm toward the hospital as quickly as road conditions would allow.


	8. Hell Hath No Fury Like An Angry Mom

Bobby leaned back on the stretcher in the trauma room of the emergency room. He and Maggie had already been to x-ray and now Maggie and Wally were both settled back on his lap. Wally again held tight to Maggie's hand. One of the nurses brought the baby in. "We got in touch with the children's mother. She'll be here in about an hour. Do you mind sitting with them while we wait for your x-rays to come back?"

He gave her a tired smile and nodded. His body was demanding sleep but his mind was not cooperating with it. "I don't mind."

He was warm now, though his mind was still a little sluggish. He'd begun to slip into shock by the time they arrived at the hospital, which had terrified Maggie, but he felt a little better now. He had an IV in the back of his hand and the medicine they'd given him to take the edge off the pain in his hip had taken effect. He took the baby in his arms.

Maggie had an IV in her arm as well, and the medicine they'd given her took away the pain in her leg. She was determined to continue taking care of Wally because he was still scared. He didn't know where his daddy was and he was scared. He needed her. When the nurse set Krissy on Bobby's stomach, Maggie smiled at her and began telling her and Wally the story of _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_.

While she talked, Bobby's mind wandered back to the accident. If he had hit that tree head-on, things might have been very different for him and for these children. Given the weather and the dearth of traffic on the snow-bound road, there would likely have been no survivors of either wreck. As it was, things turned out all right, though he felt deep sorrow for the children's loss.

* * *

He heard her before she appeared in the doorway of his cubicle, sobbing and asking about her children. "Mommy!" Wally yelled, getting to his feet and jumping into his mother's outstretched arms.

She was a young mother, about twenty-five by Bobby's estimation. Tears streamed down her face as she gathered her daughter from his arms. Wally told her, "That's Maggie and Bobby, Mommy. Maggie is my frien'."

She smiled at Maggie, then looked at Bobby. "They told me you...saved my children."

"I got them out of the car and kept them warm until the ambulance arrived."

"You came across the accident...?"

"Yes. I, uh, I drove my car off the road to avoid hitting the Jeep."

She noticed the bandage on the right side of his head, the splint on Maggie's leg and the bandage on the side of her head. "And you still took care of my children."

"I couldn't leave them there."

"Some people would have."

That thought, although true, disturbed him. "I'm not like that. I'm glad they're all right, and I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

She understood that he was talking about the children's father. "Do they know?"

He shook his head. "No. I, uh, I'm sorry."

She looked sad. "He was a good father."

A good father, gone from the lives of his children. He touched Maggie's shoulder and she scrambled into his embrace. The mother looked at the two children she held. Wally reached for Bobby and scrambled into a hug beside Maggie. "Thank you for taking me and Krissy outta the car."

"Thank you for keeping us company."

Wally smiled at Maggie. "That was a good story," he said with a smile. "Are you and your daddy goin' home now?"

Maggie nodded. "As soon as my mommy gets here."

That thought made Bobby's stomach churn. He was not looking forward to the arrival of his wife at all. Wally leaned up and kissed his cheek to say good-bye. Bobby gave him a smile. "Be a good boy and take care of your mother and your sister."

"I will." He hugged Maggie and said good-bye.

After taking her son with her free arm and setting him gently on the floor, the young mother leaned closer and kissed Bobby's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he replied, and he watched her leave, carrying her daughter and holding her son's hand. Wally turned in the doorway to wave at them. He and Maggie waved back.

Maggie snuggled into Bobby's arms and yawned. "I'm tired, Daddy."

"How's your leg?"

"It's good. Is yours?"

It wasn't but he'd caused her enough concern. "It's okay. Try to sleep, baby."

She turned onto her stomach with her head resting on his shoulder. Slipping her hand along his neck, she buried her fingers in his hair and sighed. She went right to sleep.

The doctor came in a few minutes later, as Bobby tried to figure out just what he was going to tell Alex when she arrived. "Feeling better?"

"Not really, but she is."

The doctor rested his hand on Maggie's back and looked at her peaceful face. He smiled. "She has an angel's face."

"Yes, she does."

"The x-rays are back. Her leg is broken, but it's not a bad break. We'll put a half-cast on her leg and get her a pair of crutches. Follow up with a pediatric orthopedist in three days for a cast. In two weeks they should be able to put a walking cast on her and she shouldn't need the crutches any more. I don't anticipate her needing the cast for more than four or five weeks. Children heal very quickly."

"Her head injury?"

"The CT we ran revealed no underlying damage. She will be just fine." He shifted the course of the conversation. "How do you feel? Is the pain any better?"

"Not much."

"You can rest now."

Could he? This doctor didn't know Alex the way he did. He was dreading her arrival and he couldn't relax. He shrugged but didn't answer. The doctor went on. "We have no x-rays to compare against your arm, but there has been good healing there which does not seem to have been interrupted. We replaced your cast because it was damaged in the accident. There is some bad bruising on your chest which likely extends to the bone, but there is no fracturing of the ribs. You dislocated your hip but it's returned to its normal position. It will be sore for a few weeks, but it will heal. There's significant swelling in your knee, and we'll have to wait until that goes down before we can assess the full damage. You can follow up with your orthopedic surgeon on that. As for your head, a moderate concussion should be monitored. Is there someone at home who can keep an eye on you besides this devoted little girl?"

He kissed Maggie's head. He would never place such a burden on her...not willingly. He nodded. "My wife..."

He trailed off without saying anything more. Would she be willing to do as the doctor asked? Did it really matter?

"Good. I'm going to give you something stronger for your pain. You should rest before your ride gets here. I'll give you another dose before you leave, to make the ride a little more comfortable."

Before he had a chance to process the doctor's words, the man had left the room and a nurse was back. He watched her inject a syringeful of medicine into the line in his arm. _Water_, he mused. It looked like water...

But water never brought a fog across his mind, and water never helped him forget...He drifted off.

* * *

Alex hurried across the emergency room, directed by the charge nurse to the cubicle where her husband and daughter were being treated. She stopped in the doorway and watched them. Maggie's right leg was splinted by a pink half-cast, an IV line ran into her arm, and she had a white bandage taped to the side of her head. She was snuggled on her father's chest, sleeping with her hand buried in his hair, like she did when she was a baby. She could only imagine how much this whole incident had upset her, and her anger kicked itself up another notch.

She approached the bed and touched her sleeping daughter. Maggie woke and looked up at her, expecting another nurse who wanted to disturb her father. "Mommy!"

She struggled up into her mother's arms and hugged her. Looking toward the door, she waved at Mike, who waved back. Alex redirected her daughter's attention. "Are you all right, Maggie?"

"Yes, Mommy. I'm good. Daddy..."

"I don't want to talk about Daddy right now." She looked down at her husband, who remained asleep. "I'm going to take you home."

"What about Daddy?"

Alex bit back her reply, opting not to answer the little girl. She looked at Logan. "Get a nurse."

"Alex, don't you think..."

"Now."

He raised his hands and backed out the door. "Okay, I'm going."

When the nurse came in, Alex said, "I'm taking her home, now."

"It might be a little while before he..."

Her voice hardened. "I didn't say anything about him. He can stay. Take this IV line out and discharge my daughter."

The nurse looked at Mike, who shrugged. "I'd do it," he said softly.

"Let me get Dr. Rayburn."

A few moments later, she returned with the doctor, who addressed Alex. "I understand you are ready to take Maggie home."

"You're done with her, aren't you?"

"Yes, but your husband..."

Her eyes burned white heat at the hapless doctor. "I _said_, I am taking my _daughter_ home."

Mike touched the doctor's arm. "Discharge the little girl. I'll stay here with him and we can take him home this afternoon."

Rayburn hesitated, but one more look at Alex convinced him it was a good idea. He nodded at the nurse. "Go ahead and discharge Maggie."

The nurse did as he asked, removing the IV from her arm, getting a pair of little crutches and reviewing Maggie's discharge instructions with her mother. "We already discussed them with her father..."

"Good," Alex cut her off. After scrawling her signature on the right line, she hugged Maggie and said, "Let's go, Logan."

"I said I would stay here with him. Send Carolyn back up to get us this afternoon."

Her eyes simmered disapproval. "Fine. I'll send her back for you," she snapped.

"Alex..."

"Don't."

She continued past him with Maggie, who was confused. "What about Daddy, Mommy?"

"Don't worry about him. Uncle Mike will stay with him."

"But I wanna stay with him."

"No."

"But, Mommy...he was hurt..."

Her voice was firm. "I am taking you home to take care of you properly, Maggie. Now stop arguing with me."

Unwilling to leave her father behind, Maggie began to cry, which made her mother's bad mood even worse. Leaving the hospital, she put Maggie in Tommy's carseat and struggled not to snap at the little girl. "He'll be fine, I'm sure. Uncle Mike is with him."

Maggie sobbed. "Why are you so mad at Daddy?"

"It's complicated. Just settle down. You'll see him soon enough."

She would not commit to anything more specific than that.

* * *

When Bobby woke, the first thing he noticed was that Maggie wasn't there. He slowly sat up, groaning when his hip protested. A voice from the chair beside his bed drew his attention. "Syracuse? Really?"

"Mike," he murmured. "Uh, where is Maggie?"

"Oh, buddy, you really did it this time. Five minutes after we got here Alex was back in the car with Maggie heading home."

Bobby looked at his hands. "She was that mad, huh?"

"She was steaming. I thought I had her calmer by the time we arrived, but she took one look at Maggie's leg and she lost it again. I hope you still have that comfortable couch."

Bobby's mind was still blurry, and he looked at his friend. "Did you come in separate cars?"

"No. Carolyn's gonna come back up for us after Alex gets home." Mike didn't like the unfocused look in Bobby's eyes. "How bad were you hurt?"

Bobby shrugged. "Dislocated hip, moderate concussion. I messed up my knee."

"Nothing broken?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Too bad. Maggie trumps you, and that's not gonna help your position with your wife. The doctor said something about hypothermia and shock?"

"When I came in, yes. I'm all right now."

"Can you explain something to me?"

"I'll try."

"How the hell did you end up in Syracuse?"

Bobby sighed and rubbed his head. "I...just drove. I wasn't really paying attention until it was too late...and then the storm..." He trailed off.

"But four hours?"

He shrugged. "After my mother died..."

"What? Whoa, back up the train here. Your mother? Alex said she had a break, that she scared Tom. She didn't tell me she died."

"She...she doesn't know."

"You didn't _tell_ her? Oh, man, you could write a book on screwing up and doing it right. How do you think Alex is going to take it when she finds out your mom died and you didn't call her?"

"I...I figured I'd tell her when we got home."

"But you never made it home."

"Right."

"Never mind the couch. You're going to be sleeping in the hall."

"I really messed up this time, didn't I?"

"You can bank on that. It wouldn't be so bad except that you had Maggie with you, and she got hurt."

"You have no idea how bad I feel about that."

Mike sighed. "Well, I guess we'll just see how it goes. Maybe Maggie can soften the blow for you."

Bobby looked at his hands and his body shuddered. He could feel his family, his life, slipping away from him, and he had no idea how to stop it.


	9. Storm Clouds Over Syracuse

Carolyn had just set a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of juice in front of Tommy when the front door swung open. Alex carried Maggie into the apartment and laid her gently on the couch, placing a cushion under her leg. Maggie seemed to be pouting. Tommy squealed and wriggled out of his high chair. "Mama! Maga!" He scurried across the room and launched himself into his mother's arms. Looking around and then toward the door, he asked, "Dada go?"

"Daddy's not here, Tommy," Maggie answered. "Mommy left him far away."

Carolyn was confused. "Alex? Where are the boys?"

"In Syracuse." She held out her keys. "Go get them."

Carolyn stared at her friend. "Go get them?" she repeated. "Alex, you were just there. Why did you leave them behind...wait, what did Mike do?"

"He stayed behind and I wasn't going to argue with him."

"And Bobby? Is he all right?"

"Is he ever all right?" Alex snapped.

Maggie's eyes were bright with tears. "Mommy wouldn' bring Daddy home. His leg got hurt, and he was sleepin' inna hopsital, and Mommy lef' him there with Uncle Mike. I wanted to stay, but Mommy said Daddy doesn' take good care-a me." She sobbed and buried her face in the arm of the couch.

For the first time, Alex regretted her harsh words. She set Tommy on the floor and he immediately scrambled up onto the couch beside Maggie, tears in his own eyes for his sister's grief. He hugged her tight and cried with her, even if he had no idea why he was crying. There had to be a reason if Maggie was so sad, and he didn't like Daddy not being home.

Alex waved her hand at Carolyn. "Just go get them, Carolyn. I still need time to calm down." She shoved a paper into Carolyn's hand. "Here are the directions to the hospital. Be careful because the roads up there aren't good. Maybe they'll have them plowed and sanded by now. Take him back to your place and I'll talk to him when I don't feel like strangling him any more."

"Was he badly hurt?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't _think_ so?"

"I didn't ask. Carolyn, go. We'll discuss it later."

With a sigh of deep frustration, Carolyn grabbed her coat. "Molly and Sean are napping in the bedroom."

"Thanks."

She left the apartment and Alex turned her attention toward reassuring her two older children. She sat on the edge of the coffee table and rubbed Tommy's back. Before she could think of a way to comfort either of them, Tommy sat back and touched Maggie's tear-streaked face. "Maga?" he said sadly.

Maggie turned and pulled him into a hug. He noticed the bandage on her head and the half-cast on her leg. "Gotta owie, Maga? Gamma do't?"

Tommy's question brought back memories of the night before and she remembered telling Gramma good-bye. "No, T-Tommy, Gramma didn' d-do it," she answered as she tried to stop sobbing. She grasped her little brother's hand. "G-Gramma won' hurt you no more."

Alex thought that was an odd thing for Maggie to say. "Was Gramma better when you saw her last night, Maggie?"

Maggie shook her head, her face reflecting deep sorrow. "N-No, Mommy, she wasn'. Gramma didn' wake up to tell me good-bye."

Alex gently wiped her tears and reassured her. "Gramma will talk to you the next time we visit."

Maggie shook her head again, adamantly. "I wanted to call you, but Daddy wouldn' let me use his phone right away. He wouldn't answer me, so I waited until he got better. When he gived me his phone, it wouldn' work. But he got me a hot dog before we hit the tree. Daddy does take good care-a me!"

Maggie's rushed explanation confused her. "Until Daddy got better? Maggie, what happened?"

"Gramma went to Heaven, Mommy."

Alex sat up straight, covering her mouth with both hands. She couldn't move for a long moment, and Maggie watched her with concern. "Mommy?"

When Alex spoke, her voice shook. "Daddy...was he okay, Maggie?"

She realized how ridiculous her question was as soon as she asked it. Of course he wasn't okay. He ended up wrapped around a tree in Syracuse. Oh, dear God... She waved her hand before Maggie could answer her. He wasn't going to let himself fully deal with his grief in front of Maggie. Maggie worried too much as it was. "Never mind, sweetheart."

She rose from the edge of the coffee table and pulled out her phone. First, she got the full story from the charge nurse at Carmel Ridge. Then she tried to call Bobby, but his phone was off, so she called Mike.

Mike looked at the number on his caller ID. _Great_. He wasn't sure either of them was up to dealing with Alex. But he answered the phone just before it went to voicemail. He was apprehensive. "Hello?"

_Let me talk to Bobby._

He looked at Bobby and lied, "He's sleeping."

_Wake his ass up._

"Alex, I'm really not supposed to be using the phone in here..."

_Fine._

The line went dead. Bobby watched him with a dark expression. "Is she still upset?"

"Oh, yeah."

Bobby dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes. Why would she want to talk to him now? It couldn't be good. Ten minutes later, the nurse came into the room. "Do you feel up to a call, Robert?"

"Not really," he answered honestly.

"It's your wife. She said it's important."

He hesitated, looking at Mike, who shrugged. Finally, he nodded. "I'll talk to her."

Mike waved a hand. "You'd better give him a shot of something first."

The nurse gave him a look before she turned and left to bring in an extension, which she handed to Bobby. "Line four."

"Thank you." He lifted the receiver and pressed the button for line four, which had a blinking red light. "Alex?"

The line was silent for a moment, but he could hear Maggie and Tom talking in the background. At least Maggie wasn't crying. Finally, Alex found her voice. _What am I going to do with you?_

"I...uh...what do you mean?"

_Really, I don't know what the hell to do with you. Why didn't you call me when your mother died?_

His body trembled at the reminder and his throat closed in on him. He handed the phone to Mike, who tried to push it back into his hand. When he wouldn't take it, Mike lifted the receiver to his ear. "Uh, you've gotta give him a minute, I think, Alex. What did you say to him?"

_Did you know his mother died?_ she asked, accusation making her voice hard.

"Yeah. He told me."

_When?_

"After you left with Maggie, which he noticed, by the way."

Bobby held out his hand, and Mike told her to hang on, giving the phone back. Bobby gripped the receiver, wishing the nurse had listened to Mike. He'd give anything to be numb right now. "Sorry," he muttered.

_Answer me. Why didn't you call?_

"I was going to tell you when we got home. I was on my way home when we left Carmel Ridge, I swear. But...I...I...shut down...and I...wasn't paying attention..." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "The next thing I knew, we were almost in Syracuse. I...I do wish Maggie had been...home with you...where she belonged..."

_Don't you dare push this back on me for making you take Maggie with you!_

"I...wasn't going to."

_So your mother died, and your reaction, instead of calling or coming home, was to find a tree upstate and drive your car into it?_

"No! That...that isn't what happened!" He dropped his head back against the pillow and pressed the heel of his hand against his right temple, rubbing hard to chase away the pain.

Alex could feel her control slipping as her anger surged back. _Carolyn is on her way to pick the two of you up. She's going to take you to her place. Stay there. Do you hear me?_

"I hear you."

_You can see the kids at dad's while I'm working. When I feel like I can deal with you, we'll talk._

"How long will that be?"

_I don't know, Bobby. I'll let you know. At the earliest, I'll see you at the funeral._

He wanted to ask her if they'd be able to work this out, if they would be okay, but the words wouldn't come. He was terrified of the answer. Without responding, he dropped the phone in its cradle and set it aside. He looked at Mike, who waited expectantly. Quietly, he said, "I can see the kids at John's. She doesn't want me home right now."

That wasn't what Mike wanted to hear; it wasn't what Bobby needed to hear. "At John's? The hell with that. I'll go pick them up for you. You can see them at my place."

"She doesn't trust me."

Mike's green eyes turned to hot ice. "You have as much right to them as she does. You're their father."

"Take one look at Maggie and tell me what a great father I am."

"That's exactly what I think every time I see her."

"But...I broke her..."

"Hey, accidents happen, especially in weather like this. You can't judge a lifetime on the events of a few seconds."

Bobby looked away, rubbing his injured knee as the pain continued to escalate. "A few seconds can change a life, Mike. A few seconds is all it takes to end one." He groaned softly, as unable to escape the pain that spread through his leg as he was the guilt that accosted his mind. A good father wouldn't have put his child at an unnecessary risk like he did. "Those few seconds may have changed my life forever."

Mike arched an eyebrow. "How were you supposed to know there was another car in the road? A white car covered with snow, no less. Come on, go easy on yourself. Alex will come around once she has all the information."

Bobby settled back on the bed and said no more. When the nurse came in to retrieve the phone, she read his distress as pain and returned quickly with more medication for him. Mike commented, "I told you to bring that _before _he talked to his wife."

She gave him another annoyed look before leaving the room. By the time the door closed, Bobby was out again.

* * *

Carolyn stopped just inside the cubicle and looked from one man to the other. Mike looked up from the magazine he was reading. "Thank God," he said, tossing it aside. "I had to choose from this dermatology magazine, an arthritis manual and _Go, Dog, Go_. Pus, pain and preschool. It's been a fun day."

"How is he?"

"Not good. They've never been in a rush to discharge him, but now I think they're going to admit him. He doesn't know it yet. He's been out cold for the last three and a half hours, and they aren't sure just why. Part of it's the medication they gave him, but that's not all of it. He's withdrawing, and I really can't blame him one bit."

"I've never seen Alex so furious."

"Me, neither. It's not a pretty sight. It was an exciting ride up here. How are the roads now?"

"Not too bad. They've been sanded and salted, but it's still snowing pretty good."

Mike rose from where he sat and stepped to her side. He kissed her and quietly said, "Carolyn, last night his mother died while he and Maggie were there."

Her hand covered her mouth. "Oh, God..." She looked at the sleeping man. "Does Alex know?"

"She does now, and I think she read him the riot act. She doesn't want him home and she doesn't want him to see the kids except at her dad's."

Slowly, she shook her head. "You know how she gets. She's lashing out right now, trying to hurt him as much as she can. She'll calm down in a few days."

Mike rubbed his forehead. "Now is not the time for her to be a hardass."

"Let me try talking to her."

"Good luck."

With another look toward Bobby, she turned and left the room. Stepping out of the emergency room so she could use her phone, Carolyn decided it was time to play hardball with her friend. Normally, she left them to their own devices to work things out between them, but the circumstances were exceptional, and she was deeply worried about Bobby. Convinced that Alex would get past her anger if she only knew how serious the situation was turning, she placed the call. _Hi, Carolyn,_ Alex answered. _How is Bobby?_

Reassured by the concern she heard in Alex's voice, Carolyn answered her honestly. "He's not doing so well, Alex. They're going to admit him."

_What? Why?_

"I don't know. He's been unconscious for the last three hours and they're worried. You know...I think he needs you here. Find someone to watch the kids and get back up here."

_You've got to be kidding me._

"Do I sound like I'm kidding? Alex, think about it. His mother hurt Tommy and then she died, leaving that whole situation unresolved. He wrecked his car and Maggie was hurt. Now you won't speak a civil word to him or let him see the children. How much more do you want to put on him? You need to get up here and deal with him now. You never should have left without talking to him. If you put this off, who knows how it's going to work out?"

_I am so mad at him right now..._

"I know that. But having you standing right there letting it loose on him is a much better scenario than withdrawing from him right now, when he really needs you."

Alex let out a heavy breath, and Carolyn could hear the tremor in it. _All right,_ she said tightly.

The line went dead. Satisfied, Carolyn went back into the hospital.

* * *

Alex ran down the short list of people she trusted with her children. Her father was sick and so was her nephew. Her sisters-in-law weren't able to babysit for various reasons, and there was no answer at the captain's home. She tried to call Lewis at his shop, but there was no answer, so she went to Bobby's desk in the bedroom and shuffled through some papers, looking for Lewis' home number.

A card fell out of a stack of papers and she picked it up. It was a birthday card with a bright yellow dump truck on it. Inside, it was written to Tommy and signed, "With love, Denise."

Denise? It never occurred to her that Bobby would remain in contact with Denise. Had he, or was she the one hanging on? Was it possible for a romantic relationship to revert to an innocent friendship? She knew he'd once cared deeply for Denise, maybe even loved her in his own screwed-up way, and he was not one to readily let go of things, or people, that held a place in his heart. She studied the card, her mind running on overdrive.

Pulling out her phone, she called Mike again. He answered, still reluctant to talk to her. _Alex, I told you I'm not supposed to..._

"Just listen to me, Logan. Do you remember Denise?"

Mike hesitated. _Uh, what about her?_

"Has Bobby kept in touch with her?" When he didn't answer, she knew his brain was scrambling for a way to cover for Bobby. She could not keep the irritation from her voice. "Do the kids know her, Logan?"

_Uh..._

Her patience worn thin, she snapped, "Look, I can't find anyone to watch the kids and I am not dragging them out in this weather to a hospital. I know Bobby has always trusted her, so if the kids know her, then give me her damn number and I'll see if she can watch them while I come up there. Otherwise, I'm staying here and he's on his own."

Mike remained quiet for another moment. _Yeah. They know her, and she'll take good care of them._ He pulled Bobby's phone from his pocket and flipped it open. It powered up long enough for him to retrieve the number Alex wanted. After reading it off to her, he tried to talk to her. _Alex..._

The line went dead. "Shit." He snapped the phone closed and looked at Carolyn. "She's going to see if Denise Rhodes can watch the kids."

"What made her think of asking Denise?"

"Got me. I've got a really bad feeling about this whole thing."

Bobby began to stir. Carolyn whispered, "Are you going to tell him?"

"About Denise? Hell, no."

"You're just going to let Alex blindside him with it?"

"Would you rather see him have a meltdown?"

She did not approve, but she trusted his judgment when it came to dealing with Bobby. No one knew him better. The years Alex had spent married to Ricky Waters had done their damage to the relationship she had with her partner, and Mike had stepped in as his friend, never realizing how close they would become. Even now, after things had changed between Bobby and Alex, Mike would not abandon that friendship. She watched as Bobby began to toss restlessly, unaware of the new storm that was brewing and heading his way.

* * *

Fortunately, Denise was at home. "Denise, this is Alex Eames."

"Alex? What can I do for you?"

Denise was a kind woman and she really could not blame Bobby for staying in touch with her. He knew she'd once been very jealous of Denise, so she supposed she could understand why he hadn't mentioned her in the past two years. "Denise, Bobby was in an accident upstate and I need to go up there, but I don't want to take the kids out in this weather. I can't find anyone to take care of them for me, and I was wondering if you were available."

"An accident? Is he all right?"

"That's what I'm going to find out. Can you watch the kids for me?"

There was no mistaking the concern in Denise's voice, and Alex could not help but wonder how close she'd remained to Bobby. "I would love to watch them, if you're sure."

Alex hesitated. Bobby would trust her. She had questioned his judgment over the years, but never in matters involving the children. "I'm sure. Do you mind coming over here?"

"Not at all. I can be there in ten minutes."

"Great."

It was only after she closed her phone that she wondered how Denise knew where they lived.

* * *

It was clearly obvious to Alex when Denise arrived that Maggie and Tommy knew her well. Tommy ran into her arms from the couch and Maggie was both happy and excited to see her. She sat on the couch by Maggie to hug her and asked, "What happened to your leg, Maggie?"

"Daddy crashed the car and I broke my leg."

"You were with him?

"Yes, and Mommy bringed me home without him. Now she's gonna go get him."

Denise looked at Alex, who was pulling on her coat. "I'll be back as soon as I can," Alex said, not in the mood to explain herself to her husband's ex-lover. "It'll be late, though. Maybe not until morning. If you have somewhere else to be, you can call my father or my sister. I left their numbers on the refrigerator along with my cell number. Molly just ate and she's sleeping in the bedroom, and Sean is over in the playpen."

"Mike's little boy?"

"Yes. Mike and Carolyn are in Syracuse. Sean's formula and Molly's milk are in the refrigerator. Maggie can help you, but she's not supposed to put any weight on her leg. She has pain medicine in the cabinet next to the refrigerator."

Denise nodded. "We'll be fine, Alex. Drive carefully."

As Alex pulled away from the curb, she mulled over the fact that Denise was more than a casual acquaintance to her children, and she wondered just when, where and how often they spent time with her. Bobby had a lot of explaining to do.


	10. The Storm Breaks

**A/N: I talked my muse out of the original course of these events and am happy with the way it's playing out now. Everyone should be able to review as usual now. :-)**

* * *

By the time Bobby woke, the doctors had made up their minds and he was in a regular hospital room. By Mike's estimation, Alex would be about halfway there, maybe a little more. Carolyn stepped up to the bed when she realized Bobby was awake, sliding her hand into his and squeezing. "How do you feel?"

He shrugged. "Not so good. Are we, uh, ready to go?"

Mike said, "I've been ready for the last twelve hours. But you aren't."

"What are you talking about?"

"They admitted you."

"What?" He looked around the room. "No. No way. I'm going home."

He sat up and the room tilted and began to spin. Carolyn pressed him back into the bed. "Just sit still. Alex is on her way back."

Bobby frowned for a moment before panic set in. "Why?"

He couldn't think of a thing that would make her come all the way back to Syracuse. She certainly hadn't seemed concerned about him, taking Maggie away and not even staying to talk to him. Carolyn answered, "I told her to get her ass back here, that you aren't doing well and they were going to admit you."

"You _lied _to her? That'll go over big, and she'll probably blame me..."

She squeezed his hand and again pressed him back into the bed when he tried to sit up. "Calm down. I didn't lie. You _aren't_ doing so well and they _did _admit you."

Once he had calmed a little and seemed to relax, she sat down. Bobby rubbed his temple. "I'm not staying. And you shouldn't have done that. There's no need to drag the kids out in this weather."

"She left the kids home," Mike replied before he thought about the next question that would naturally follow.

"With her dad?"

"Uh, no. He wasn't available. But she found a babysitter."

"Her sister."

"Uhm, no."

"Lewis?"

"No. She couldn't get in touch with him."

Bobby couldn't think of another suitable babysitter that his wife would trust with their children. "Stop messing with me, Mike. Who's watching my kids?"

Mike glanced at Carolyn, who leaned back in her chair with a smug go-ahead-and-tell-him look on her face. Bracing himself, he replied, "She called Denise."

"D-Denise? H-How did she know to call her?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't know. She called me and asked if the kids knew her and if they would be okay staying with her. I gave her the number."

_Oh, fuck... _This was slowly going from bad to worse. What the hell was Alex going to think now? "Was she...mad?"

"It was hard to tell."

His head was still spinning but he realized he was in deep. "Oh, damn."

"Look, I know I told you Denise was your business and I was going to stay out of it, but level with me. You haven't been sleeping with her, have you?"

"What? No! Of course not. Not since I married Alex."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is that Alex knows I used to sleep with her, and she was very jealous of her. She's not going to understand this."

"I told you to tell her," Mike said reasonably.

Bobby's eyes flared and Mike backed away from the side of the bed. "Fine. This is between you and her."

He grabbed the white and orange book he'd brought up from the emergency room and dropped into the chair near the window. _Red dog. Blue dog. Old dog. New dog. Shit..._

* * *

Mike swore he felt the temperature in the room drop when the door banged open and Alex entered. He took one look at her face and he got up from his chair, casting a look of sympathy in Bobby's direction. Alex pointed at him. "Sit down," she ordered. "You're not going anywhere."

_Great. She wants witnesses._ This room was the last place in the world he wanted to be, but it never crossed his mind to disobey and he sat down. She turned toward Bobby, who watched her silently with worried eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. He averted his eyes, but remained silent. "Start talking," she demanded, struggling to hang on to her anger after seeing the look in his eyes, certain she had put it there. A cold fist gripped her heart and her hold on her anger faltered. But she forced it back and waited for him to start talking.

Bobby had no idea what to say, knowing that the wrong thing would be catastrophic. Saying nothing, however, was just as bad an option. He focused on his hands, running two fingers along a jagged laceration that ran along the back of his arm from his left wrist halfway to his elbow. He hadn't noticed it before. Silently, he counted the stitches.

Alex waited, forcing herself to be patient. Telling herself he needed a starting point, she said, "Start with the accident."

She wanted to know how Maggie got hurt. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. Focusing away from her, he tried to remain detached as he explained, "I...can't tell you how we ended up this far north. The snow just started when I stopped for gas, and it came down heavily, accumulated fast. We were off the main highway, so I headed back toward 81 to catch 17 back to the city. I...uh, I didn't make it to 81." He rubbed his hand over the sutured laceration, feeling the scrape of the knots against his palm. "There was a white car on its roof in the middle of the road. It was covered in snow. By the time I saw it, it was too late; I couldn't miss it. So...I turned the wheel...hard." He bit his lip. He wasn't having much success keeping the emotion from his voice. "With road conditions being what they were...the Blazer went into a...a spin...off the road. I pulled it out of the spin, right into a tree." He swept his hand over his hair, grazing the bandaged sutures on the side of his head. He winced at the white flash of pain that shot across his skull. He didn't remember the accident at all, but he'd been able to recreate what happened from reading what was left of the tracks in the snow. "It, uh, it was the right thing to do...but I-I'm sorry...I'm sorry Maggie got hurt."

As she listened to his voice, Alex felt most of her anger abate, replaced by a shallow sense of guilt. Some of this he had brought upon himself, but not all of it. He was sorry...that Maggie was hurt. Her anger had done some serious damage this time, she realized. "What about you?"

He looked up, surprised by the question. "Me? What about me?"

Carolyn slid over toward Mike and tapped his head. She motioned for him to follow her. He hesitated, until she glared at him. Then he got up and followed her out of the room. Their departure went unnoticed.

Alex stepped closer to the bed, but not close enough to reach out and touch him. She still hung on to some of her anger. "Yes. You."

He shrugged. He didn't matter, though he knew better than to tell her that. He chose, instead, to say nothing and let her interpret his shrug however she would.

His silence annoyed her. "You don't think it would have been better just to hit that other car?"

"No." He shook his head, making the spinning worse. He closed his eyes for a moment, until the world settled. This was an answer he was certain about. Slowly easing his eyes back open, he searched her face for a moment before looking away again. She was still angry. "It wouldn't have been better, for anyone. There was a family in that car. The driver was dead, but his children were still alive in the back seat."

_Children..._ Her heart skipped a beat. "How old?"

"Wally is about three and a half. Krissy is maybe six or eight months. Maggie was a big help taking care of them."

Even injured, Maggie's concern extended beyond herself. Tears formed in Alex's eyes but she choked them back. Maggie grew to be more and more like her father every day, and Alex never saw that as a bad thing. In spite of his upbringing, Bobby had become a sensitive, caring man. Maggie was going to be the same way, only without the demons and insecurities that plagued her father.

"Tell me about your injuries," she urged, her voice suddenly losing its hard edge.

Again he shrugged. "I'm all right."

She could not keep the natural bite of sarcasm from creeping into her voice. "That's why they admitted you, huh? Because you're all right?"

His shoulders sagged and he stared at his hands again. He noticed the change in her tone, but he was not certain how to interpret it. He couldn't believe it was a good thing. He forced himself to answer her. "I, uhm, I dislocated my hip and wrecked my knee. A concussion...but...nothing broken..."

_Nothing but your spirit,_ Alex realized. _And that's my fault._

Before she knew what she was doing, she moved a little closer. Finding herself at the bedside, she stayed where she was. "What about your arm?"

"Apparently, it's okay. I think the cast protected it, but they put a new one on."

"Did they treat you for anything else?"

"Hypothermia...shock...some lacerations...I guess that's it."

She reached out and touched the back of his hand with the tips of her fingers. He still would not look at her. She urged him into the next topic. "Now...your mother..."

She saw the tremor that shook his body at the reminder. He shut his eyes tight and she slid her hand over the top of his, closing her fingers around it. She stepped closer, pressing her body into the side of the bed and moving another step toward the head of the bed, closer to him.

She couldn't say exactly when she lost her hold completely on the remaining shreds of her anger or when his emotions broke past his control. She slid her hand up his arm and he leaned toward her, burying his face in her chest as she wrapped her arms around him. One of his arms slipped around her waist and held her close. She stroked his hair and waited for him to settle back from his grief.

It was a long time before he withdrew from her, and she was reluctant to let him go. She took a step back from the bed. He laid against the pillows, still unable to look at her. He knew it wasn't over. She decided not to address the emotional meltdown that sent him to Syracuse. There was one thing she had learned from the years she'd been with him. One way or another, Bobby always ended up where he needed to be. If he hadn't been on that road in the storm, those two little ones would have frozen to death. She could not be angry with him for that.

"There's one more thing I have to address with you. Denise Rhodes."

He nodded, but said nothing. She waited. Finally, he said, "I have never been unfaithful to you, Alex."

She wasn't sure that was what she needed to hear; she knew that he would never be unfaithful to her. But she really wasn't sure just what it was that she did need to hear. "You never told me you were still in contact with her."

"I'm sorry." She knew his moods and the meaning behind every tone he injected into his voice. He was sincere. "I-I thought it might upset you. The kids love to see her; she's good to them. And...I, I was never willing to completely let her go. She was always there when I needed her. It would have been...wrong...to just cut her out of my life. I can be a real bastard, but...I...I couldn't do that to her. She deserved better from me." He poked at the sutured laceration. The sharp pain drew his focus from his misery. "Denise...is only a friend any more. She...she listens to me...she talks to me...but...that's all. Sometimes...I buy her lunch, or she meets us in the park. The kids ask to see her. She took Maggie to Radio City a few months ago. There's nothing...but friendship between us, I swear."

She leaned over to look at his face, and she believed him. "The kids never said anything. Did you tell them not to?"

"No. Never. I would never put them in that position. I didn't hide anything from you. I just...never said anything. And Tommy's told you about her. I don't know why Maggie never did, but he did."

Alex furrowed her brow, trying to remember Tommy saying anything about Denise to her. "No, he hasn't."

Bobby nodded, again regretting the movement. "He did. The last couple of times I took them to the park. He calls her 'Nees."

Understanding dawned. "I thought he fell or something and was telling me about his knees."

Bobby almost smiled, but his mind was still heavily weighted by dark thoughts. With the eye of a profiler, he studied Alex, trying to determine her state of mind. Still defensive, still angry, definitely. He saw no forgiveness, perhaps because he didn't look hard enough, didn't think he deserved it. He looked away, back to the suture on his arm. Seventeen stitches. With the edge of his fingernail, he flicked at a knot. A small trickle of blood began to run from the edge of the wound.

Silently, Alex grasped his hand, drawing it from the injury. "Quit playing with that and talk to me."

Any outsider hearing her request would think it wasn't much to ask. Any one who knew Bobby, who really knew him, would know that it was. His mind was still racing, wandering rapidly from one thing to the next, and he was unable to untangle one thought from another. His mother's final break with reality and the pain, physical and emotional, it caused his children, her death, the accident, Maggie's injuries, Alex's fury, Denise...

He turned toward Alex, his eyes diverted from her face. He watched the hollow at the base of her throat. "You don't have to worry. I...I mean...you..." He paused and took a deep breath, struggling to calm his racing mind. "I really screwed up this time...and Maggie...Maggie was hurt...but I...I can't...after everything..." He trailed off, knowing his words were as jumbled as his thoughts. "I'm sorry," he finally said. Nothing else made any sense to him, and he _was _sorry, for everything.

Alex watched him avoid her, and she wasn't sure how to address that. She didn't want to drive him further away. The only thing she knew for certain was that anger was not the proper response right now. Anger was what she felt most strongly, though, and she resented having to scuttle it away in order to deal with him. Her conscious mind told her resentment wasn't the right response, either. Every emotion that cropped up seemed to be the wrong one. She wanted to yell at him; she wanted to lash out with sharp words she intuitively knew would cut deep. But a damaged soul bleeds much more readily than a whole one, and a tender heart, already bearing years of abuse, does not recover so quickly. Those thoughts calmed her, driving away the anger and resentment.

She reached out and he flinched unexpectedly. She withdrew her hand and frowned. Years of abuse were suddenly coming back to haunt him, driven by the death of his mother, no doubt. Memories long suppressed were suddenly surfacing and they were taking their toll on him. Alex did not know how to reach him. _Take it slowly,_ a voice whispered in her mind. _Reach out and let him reach back. Words right now will have little meaning, but still, be careful what you say. Remember, there is still a wounded boy hiding deep within this big, sensitive man._

She sent a hand forward, slowly, along the sheet. His eyes darted toward the movement, and he watched her hand. When she touched him, he raised his hand, and his fingertips traveled along curved fingers that turned with her hand. He gently explored the furrows of her palm.

She didn't pull away and that surprised him. His fingers traced the lines of her palm. _She has a long lifeline. That's a good thing. She'll have lots of years with the children._

His hand continued along her arm. Soft skin, smooth with strong defined muscles. They could do damage...or soothe a very big hurt. And her shoulders, erect, proud, bearing a heavier burden than she probably ever intended to bear, thanks to him. His fingers moved along the curve of her collarbone to her throat. He could feel her swallow, feel the beat of her heart beneath the tips of his fingers as they moved across her pulse point on their way to the back of her neck, beneath her hair. He drew in a slow breath as her hair filtered through his fingers and his mind slowly settled. He relaxed against the pillows and his gentle, caressing hand dropped away from her slowly. He closed his eyes.

* * *

He didn't dream. Not really. He wouldn't call it a dream. It was more like an assault of images and sounds from his life, coming and going, tormenting and torturing. He stirred restlessly.

His mother's voice screamed through his mind. _Robert! Why can't you just be good, like your brother?!_ Tommy's sudden cries of terror quickly followed, punctuated by Maggie, comforting him in spite of her own confused sobbing. He saw his son's blood and bruises, intermingled with his sister's, followed by decades of his own blood, flowing like a river through the memories of his life. Then it was snowing and spinning, and the spin was stopped suddenly by something big and dark and silent...something which moved in the shadows, still threatening as the shadows melted together and shifted, changing, shrinking in size but not in ferocity. The shadow stepped into an undefined light, and it became Alex.

He sat up suddenly, fighting his way back from the nightmare images. Fire erupted in his hip, traveling down his thigh to his knee and he doubled over. The pain chased away the memory of sleep. No one moved in the dim light of the room.

Once the pain subsided, he slid from the bed, grunting at the pain of protest from his knee and fighting against the spinning in his head. Limping painfully, he searched the room until he found a clean pair of jeans and a gray sweatshirt. They must have brought him clothes from home. Somehow, he doubted his clothes survived the emergency room. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, he peeled away the tape on the back of his hand and pulled the IV from its place, dropping it to the floor, still running. He was dressed before he noticed the steady stream of blood running from the spot where the IV had been. Quickly, he pressed a finger against it to staunch the flow of blood. After a minute, which he spent conducting a successful hunt for a band-aid and a piece of gauze, he removed his finger, replacing it with the gauze, folded in quarters and held in place by the band-aid.

The IV fluid that continued to run onto the floor mixed with the blood that had dripped from his hand. He watched it as he pulled on his socks and shoes. He'd just finished when the door opened. He looked up, annoyed that he had to force his vision to focus. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mike asked around whatever he was eating.

Bobby picked up _Go, Dog, Go_ and tossed it at Mike's form, missing him by several feet. "Get your stuff together. We're going home."

Mike watched him, noticing his unsteadiness. If Bobby was fine, he'd never have missed hitting him with the book. "I'm not so sure that's a great idea," he answered, noting the pool of blood on the floor.

"Did I ask?"

Picking up the book as he swallowed, Mike said, "Okay. My stuff is together."

"Then let's get out of here."

Mike watched Bobby try to stand before he felt bad and stepped forward to help him. "Don't you think it would be nice to wait for Alex?"

Bobby stopped moving and looked at Mike. "She...she's still here?"

"Of course she is. She's talking to the doctor right now."

"Is she...mad?"

"Not at the moment, but she will be when she gets back in here."

Bobby waved a hand. "I am not staying here. I'm going home."

"Just how do you plan on getting there?"

"You're going to take me."

Mike tightened his grip on Bobby's arm when he faltered. "That would involve getting the keys from either Carolyn or Alex and I really don't see that happening."

Turning his head to look at Mike, Bobby blinked a couple of times as he processed that information. "I _need_ to go home."

Before Mike could answer the door opened again. The soft click of the light switch was followed by a stern, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Turning to face his wife, Bobby shook off Mike's support, trying to prove he was feeling better than he was. "I'm going home."

Alex watched him put out a hand to steady himself against the bed. Looking at the floor, she saw the patient end of the IV tubing as it continued to dribble its contents into the bloody pool with every turn of the pump. Her mind was busy trying to process what actually would be best for him: a hospital admission he neither wanted nor consented to but probably needed or taking him home to recover where he could be with his children and she could take care of him.

A hand touched her elbow before she could arrive at an answer. The doctor she had just finished speaking to stepped past her and Carolyn stopped at her side. She mouthed 'thank you' to her friend before moving around the doctor to re-enter Bobby's line of vision.

"You should probably get back in bed," the doctor urged.

Bobby shook his head. "I'm going home. I did not consent to being admitted."

Alex asked, "Is there anything necessary that you are doing here that we cannot do for him at home?"

"Other than due diligence by medically trained eyes and the ability to control his pain better by the use of IV medication, no."

She shifted her attention back to Bobby, who had accepted Mike's support to keep him steady. "I'm not so sure leaving is a good idea, Bobby."

"I want to go home," he insisted.

"He can stay with us," Mike offered, opening the door for Alex to let Bobby know she was willing to forgive him and hoping she would take the opportunity.

"No," she said firmly. "If he's going to come home, he's coming _home_." Looking back at the doctor, she said, "Go ahead and discharge him."

She knew that he was not going to stay in the hospital and she could not remain here with him. She was getting ready to make the drive home and had planned on asking Mike to stay with Bobby. Seeing his determination, she knew the only way he would stay was going to be under sedation, and she didn't want that. She preferred to take him home, where he was most comfortable, and they had a lot to work through. She also realized that Maggie and Tom really needed to see him, and he needed them more than he needed IV fluids and pain control.

She stepped up to Bobby and placed her hand flat against his chest. "Sit down before you fall down."

"I'm fine."

She arched her eyebrows. "Now is not the time for you to be stubborn with me, Bobby."

She wavered in front of him and he blinked hard. She shifted to the left and then to the right. Reaching out, he grabbed her, holding her still. "That's not funny."

"Sit down."

Given that he perceived himself on shaky ground with her, he decided that it would be counterproductive to argue. He sat down, a little more heavily than he intended, jarring his hip. He was unable to fully suppress a groan of pain. The doctor looked at Alex, who said, "Just give him something to get him home. He'll be fine after that."

"I'll have the nurse bring him something with his discharge papers."

"Thank you."

Bobby pulled his left hand over his face and then ran it through his hair. He was getting all kinds of mixed messages from Alex and had absolutely no idea if she was still angry or not. His guess was yes and he was not going to push his luck.

Thirty minutes later, Alex made a left out of the hospital parking lot behind Mike and Carolyn. She'd entertained the notion of letting Bobby go with Mike and taking Carolyn with her, but she decided against it. She wanted to talk to him, but negotiating the slick, snow-covered roads took all her concentration. By the time they turned onto southbound 81, he was asleep.


	11. Calming Waters

Bobby slept all the way back to the city, but his sleep was restless, punctuated by an occasional groan of pain. She made one stop for gas and one at an all night pharmacy in the city to fill the two prescriptions she had, one for Maggie and one for Bobby.

After parking in the closest spot she could find to their building, she turned off the engine and looked at Bobby. He finally seemed to be resting fairly comfortably. She jostled his shoulder. "Hey, Bobby. Come on. We're home."

He roused himself and look out the window. It was still dark. He blinked a few time, trying to clear his vision. "Wh-what time is it?"

"Almost four."

His mind was groggy, his thoughts, blurry. "In the morning?"

"Yes, in the morning. Now let's go inside. It's cold out here."

He nodded, regretting the motion when the world spun. His head was throbbing. He opened the door, bracing himself as he got out of the car. His right leg, stiffened from the ride, collapsed under him, but he caught himself on the door. Holding on, he set his leg on the snowy sidewalk and leaned on it, gradually placing more weight on it until he was certain it would bear his weight. Alex came around from the driver's side of the car and watched him.

She remained where she was as he stepped carefully away from the car and shut the door. His knee shot bolts of fire into his hip, which screamed at him of its own accord. The injection they'd given him in the emergency room had obviously worn off. He limped painfully toward the building, half a block away, surprised that she walked beside him.

She had not missed his unsteadiness, and she stayed beside him to help him if he needed it. But he moved with slow caution and he made it to the apartment building without her help.

When they got to the front steps, he stopped. She was halfway up the steps before she realized he wasn't with her, and she stopped and turned, waiting. Unwilling to irritate her any further, he set his jaw and grabbed onto the handrail. Carefully, he climbed the steps, silently willing the world to quit shifting on him.

Once they were in the elevator, he leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard and sweating. Alex watched him, but said nothing. They stepped from the elevator and she pulled out her keys as they walked down the hall.

Upon entering the apartment, Alex looked around. Maggie was sleeping on the couch, and she felt a blaze of irritation. But she was in her pajamas and seemed comfortable. Her favorite blanket covered her and she was hugging her bunny. Denise was in the recliner with Tommy curled in her lap. He was hugging his favorite blanket and stuffed tiger. Molly was sleeping soundly in the playpen with Sean. Mike would stop by later to get his son. She heard the door softly close behind her, and she knew by his breathing that he was in a lot of pain.

"You can wake Denise. I'll get your medicine."

"Wh-what medicine?"

"The prescription the doctor gave me when he discharged you. I stopped and got it filled on the way home."

"You did?"

"I had to fill Maggie's prescription, too," she said, giving him another annoyed look. She walked into the kitchen.

Denise, roused by the soft voices, stirred and opened her eyes as he limped to the chair. She looked up at him in the dim light cast by the small lamp on the table in the corner. "Are you all right?"

He shrugged. "I guess. How were the kids?"

"They were fine. I gave Maggie some medicine when she woke up around midnight. She wanted to wait on the couch for you, and so did Tommy. I didn't want him to accidentally kick her leg, so I kept him here with me. Where is Alex?"

"In the kitchen."

Denise set the chair upright and carefully stood up, still cradling Tommy against her. "Let me put him in his bed..."

"That's all right," Alex said as she approached with a glass of water. "I'll take him."

She handed the glass and two tablets to Bobby, then took Tommy from Denise. Denise said, "I gave him a bath before I put him in his pajamas. Molly and Sean had baths, too, but I didn't want to risk getting Maggie's cast wet, so I gave her a sponge bath."

"Thank you for watching them."

"Any time."

Alex looked at Bobby as she turned to carry Tommy to bed. He averted his eyes again. Denise knew him well, and she knew he wasn't anywhere close to being all right, but she wasn't sure exactly what was wrong. She saw his pain, but that wasn't the source of his problem, she was certain. It had to involve his wife. She also saw his unsteadiness, and that concerned her. "Why don't you sit down? I have to get going," she said quietly, not wanting to outlive her welcome with Alex.

Ignoring her suggestion, Bobby walked her to the door, opening it for her. "Do you need a ride?"

"No. I have my car. Bobby..." She met his eyes. "Call me."

He nodded. "Thank you, Denise."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She reached out a hand to steady him when he faltered. He leaned against the wall beside the door and she wished he hadn't walked her to the door. Reaching toward him, she touched his jaw and turned his head, looking at the bandage over his head injury. "Take care of yourself," she said.

"Don't worry," he insisted. "Drive carefully."

She hesitated again before she turned and walked down the hall. He closed the door.

Turning back into the living room, he saw Alex standing there, watching him. He stopped moving but stumbled back two steps into the door.

She remained silent as she walked to the couch and gently lifted Maggie in her arms, carrying her to her room. Then she retrieved the crutches and took them in to set beside the little girl's bed.

Bobby limped to the couch and eased himself onto it, letting out a long, slow breath. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His forehead was coated with sweat and pain continued to shoot through his leg as well as his head; he could feel every throbbing beat of his heart. Struggling, he tried to take deep, slow breaths. He heard Alex come back into the room twice, moving each baby into the crib in the bedroom. He was surprised when she returned a third time. Slowly, he forced his eyes open to look at her.

She was standing near the recliner, watching him. He looked away again. He didn't need to look at her to know she was still angry. "Are you coming to bed?" she asked.

He hesitated before shaking his head. "I don't want to keep you up. If I sleep, I won't sleep well. I'll be more comfortable out here."

"Suit yourself."

He shifted his eyes back to watch her turn. No argument, though he didn't expect one. "Alex?"

When she turned, he almost panicked. He hadn't expected her to acknowledge him, and now he didn't know what to say. She waited. He had to say something. "Will you...ever...forgive me?" he asked tentatively, almost choking on the words before he got them out.

She watched him for a long, silent moment. "Do you think I won't?" she finally asked.

"I...I don't know what...what to think. I know...I know I really messed up...this time. I...don't..." He paused, closing his eyes. "I wouldn't blame you...if...if you didn't."

She watched him struggle, and she knew he needed reassurance. It wasn't often he sought it, so when he did, he really needed it. She had no desire to break him entirely. Slowly, she walked back to the couch. She sat beside him and reached out, deeply disturbed when he flinched again. She wished she knew where that was coming from and how to chase it away. This time, though, she did not withdraw her hand. She continued to reach toward him. When her fingers touched his cheek, she felt a tremor course through him. Her touch became firmer and she sifted her fingers through his hair. "Everyone messes up from time to time," she said gently, making certain to keep any anger from her voice. "We all make mistakes. Maggie will heal, and so will you. Of course I will forgive you. But we have a lot of things to work through right now. Don't you dare shut down on me. I'll call Dr. Wrightweiler this morning and see if he can get you in this afternoon. I'll have him recommend a doctor for Maggie. Maybe she can be back in school before the end of the week." Her hand slid from his hair down to the side of his face and he leaned into it, his eyes closed. She asked again, "Are you sure you don't want to come to bed?"

He nodded. "I won't disturb you. Go on to bed."

She rose to her feet and started to walk off, turning back suddenly. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she leaned down to give him a kiss. When she started to pull away, his hand came up, sliding into her hair to prevent it. She allowed him to prolong the kiss, breaking it when he was ready. But he didn't break it. He sighed softly when she relaxed and slid her hand along the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss a little more, tentatively touching her lips with the tip of his tongue. She relaxed a little more, allowing him to pull her down beside him. He leaned heavily into her and she yielded, laying back on the couch. He settled beside her and let her end the kiss. She made no move to get up and he softly sighed again. The pounding in his head abated a little. The medicine was beginning to work, worsening the spinning in his head. He gently nuzzled the side of her head and closed his eyes. His arm draped over her and he tucked his hand against her side, holding her close in a protective embrace.

She could not hang on to her anger. It slid away like melted butter and she snuggled into him, listening to his breathing as it evened out. The medicine chased away enough of his pain to allow sleep to return. She thought about sliding from his embrace to return to the bedroom, but before the thought became an action, she was asleep as well.

* * *

Maggie was not used to waking in pain, and she whimpered softly. Her leg hurt and so did her head. Gradually, as sleep retreated, she remembered getting hurt. Then she remembered that Mommy took her away from Daddy when she didn't want to leave, and she left him far away. But then, she was going to go to get him, which was why Denise stayed with them.

She sat up. She wasn't on the couch any more. How was she going to tell Denise she needed more medicine of she wasn't nearby? She saw the crutches by her bed in the light that came in her window. The sun was starting to come up. Denise showed her how to use the crutches last night, but she didn't like them. They were too slow. But Daddy told her she had to use them so she wouldn't hurt her leg worse. Swinging her legs from under the covers, she picked up the crutches and slowly made her way out of the room. She went into the living room to find Denise, surprised to see her father sleeping on the couch. _Daddy..._

Trying to move a little faster, she hobbled to the couch and reached out to touch his rough cheek. She liked the sandpaper feel of his cheek when his beard started to grow in. He moved his head. She rubbed his cheek a little more and his eyelids flickered. He looked at her for a few moments, but he wasn't seeing her. "Daddy?"

His mouth formed a brief smile and he slipped his arm around her to give her a hug. But when his arm slid away, his eyes closed, too, and he went back to sleep.

"Maggie?"

She turned at the sound of her mother's voice. "Thank you, Mommy," she said quietly, so she wouldn't wake Daddy again.

"For what?"

"For bringing Daddy home."

Alex moved into the room. She had gone to the bedroom to feed Molly and Sean. Sitting in the recliner, she motioned Maggie to her. Maggie used the crutches to cross the six feet to the chair and Alex drew her up onto her lap. Maggie looked back toward the couch. "Daddy didn' really wake up."

"The doctor gave him some very strong medicine that helps him to sleep."

"Oh. Will he be okay?"

"Yes. I'm going to take him to see Dr. Wrightweiler later today. Uncle Mike will watch you."

Maggie judged her mother's mood, and decided she was a lot better than she'd been the day before. It was all right now to ask her questions about what had happened. "Why did you take me away from Daddy and leave him at the hopsital?"

Alex knew she would be faced with difficult questions from her oldest child. Maggie was bright and intuitive, but more than that, she was intolerant of anything that she felt would negatively impact her beloved father. Sometimes, she was wonderfully five, but other times, she was disturbingly older. "I needed to get you home so I could take care of you."

"Because you didn' think Daddy could?"

"Of course not, honey. Daddy takes very good care of you. I have always trusted him with you, since the day you were born. I wanted you to be home, that's all."

"But you lef' Daddy."

"He wasn't ready to come home. And Uncle Mike was with him, so he wasn't alone."

"You was really mad."

Alex sighed heavily. "Yes, Maggie, I was very mad. But I'm over that now."

"You're happy with Daddy again."

"Yes." It wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough. "Listen to me, Maggie. I love Daddy very much. Nothing is going to change that. I could never be so angry that I will stop loving him, so don't worry. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mommy. I unnerstan'." She looked back at the couch. Daddy was still sleeping. Looking at her mother, she asked another difficult question. "Why don' you like Denise, Mommy?"

Alex was surprised by the question. "What makes you think I don't like her?"

"You never come to the park with us, and las' night...you gived her a mean look."

Alex wasn't sure just how to answer that. "I do like Denise, Maggie. She has been a very good friend to Daddy and she has always been very kind to you. I was just angry last night, that's all."

"At Daddy?"

"Yes. At Daddy."

"But why don' you come to the park with us or the museem?"

"Those were times I needed to do other things." She paused for a moment. "Why didn't you ever tell me about the time you spent with Denise?"

"Because Tommy al'ays did. I didn' hafta tell you _two_ times," she said reasonably.

Alex laughed quietly. Maggie always made sense. "You're right."

"Can I have some medicine for my leg, Mommy?"

"Of course you can."

Alex kissed her and got up, settling her on the recliner. As soon as she walked away, Maggie slid off the chair and hobbled back to the couch. Carefully, she climbed up onto her father and sat on his stomach, waiting for her mother.

When Alex came back into the living room, she wasn't really surprised to find Maggie perched on top of her father. She handed the little girl a medicine cup and a glass of apple juice. Maggie took the red medicine and drank the juice. Handing the cup back to Mommy, she snuggled down between Daddy's side and the back of the couch, wriggling to get comfortable.

The movement stirred Bobby toward consciousness, but not fully. He shifted in his sleep, turning toward Maggie. He was very used to her snuggling with him and his responses were unconscious. He rested his arm over her and she nestled her head into his shoulder. She sighed softly and closed her eyes.

As Alex watched Maggie get comfortable and Bobby respond to her so naturally, even in his sleep, she felt a rush of warmth for the big, gentle man. She sat slowly as her mind turned back to the past. The night Maggie was born, he had been there with her, all night long. Ricky could not be bothered to be there for the birth of the child they all thought was his. When Maggie would not be comforted, even in the depths of dark winter nights, Bobby left his warm apartment to drive out of the city to be there for her. He was always able to settle Maggie down, and Alex knew, even though he never said a word about it, that many times, he'd left behind a warm body sleeping in his bed. There was no such thing as inconvenience where Maggie was concerned. She thought of the many times he put Maggie ahead of anything—and anyone—in his life. She wondered if his devotion had ever caused a rift in any of his relationships. They had never discussed that. She also remembered the many times she had called on him for her own needs, and he had always been there. Always. _How many arguments had that caused,_ she wondered. Bobby had always loved her, always put her ahead of himself, to his detriment, she was certain. There were many things he had always refused to discuss with her, even to this day. But now, there were things she needed to know, off-limits topics that she had to address. It was not going to be an easy conversation, for either of them. She was going to have to open wounds of the past in order to heal the pain of the present. And she wondered if it was something that Bobby would ever be able to forgive her for.


	12. Voices of Reason

Wrightweiler was very accommodating, as Alex knew he would be once he found out what was going on with Bobby. His examination was thorough and he expressed genuine concern, not only for Bobby's physical health but for his state of mind.

The doctor's level of concern for Bobby's knee and head injuries concerned Alex. As much as Bobby had downplayed the severity of both injuries, Wrightweiler insisted they were serious. He gave strict instructions for him to stay off his knee and rest as much as possible. She was not surprised when Bobby balked at the orders, insisting that the doctor had cleared him for desk work. They reached a compromise when she promised to bring work home for him. The deal was sealed when the doctor pointed out that he would be able to spend more time with his children. Alex was impressed with the doctor's negotiating skills; he knew Bobby better than she thought he did.

Wrightweiler also insisted that Bobby use a cane when he walked, since crutches were unmanageable with his arm in a cast and he would not even consider the use of a wheelchair. The cane was the most he would consent to, and that was under protest.

After the appointment was over, they returned to the car. Alex stopped to fill the prescriptions Wrightweiler had handed to her while Bobby remained in the car. When they got home, she dropped him off in front of the apartment. "Go inside and stay put, for God's sake," she told him. "I'll be back later."

He looked at her, frowning. "Where are you going?"

"Well, I'm not going to Syracuse. Just go inside."

He got out of the car without further comment and slammed the door. She watched him until he was in the building, then she drove off.

* * *

Mike was seated in the recliner with Tommy in his lap, reading to him and Maggie. He looked up when the door opened. Tommy jumped off his lap. "Dada!"

He hit his father's leg at full speed and Bobby staggered back a few steps into the closed door. "Hey, buddy," he said quietly.

Maggie watched him from the couch, where she sat with her injured leg up on a pillow and her favorite blanket wrapped around her. "Daddy?"

He looked toward her as Tommy trotted off to the toy box on the far side of the room. Maggie leaned forward to pat the couch by her leg. "Come sit with me. Where's Mommy?"

"She had something to do," he answered as he limped slowly across the room and dropped onto the couch by his daughter.

Maggie moved her blanket and swung herself around to climb into his lap. He helped her, gathering her close and wrapping his arms around her. She asked, "When do I hafta go to the doctor about my leg?"

"Tomorrow."

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course."

She rubbed his arm, then noticed the sutures. She sat up a little straighter so she could lean over to look at it. "When did you get this?" she asked.

Tommy came over to see what Daddy had. When he saw the injury, he frowned. "Gamma do't."

Bobby's eyes slid closed. Gramma was now responsible for all the bad things in Tommy's mind, and he had no idea how he could ever erase that. He knew that time had not erased it from his mind. Opening his eyes, he looked at the toddler who ran a gentle hand over the wound in his arm. "No, Tom. Gramma didn't do that."

"Did the tree do it, Daddy?" Maggie asked.

She didn't blame him for hitting the tree. She blamed the tree for hitting them. "Yes, I got it in the accident."

"Lunchtime," Mike announced.

Tom ran to him right away, and Mike set him in his high chair. Then he returned to the couch and put his arms out to Maggie. Reluctantly, she let him lift her from Bobby's lap and carry her to the table. Once she was comfortable, he set a plate of spaghetti in front of each of them. Then he grabbed a glass from the counter and went back to the living room, tossing a prescription bottle at Bobby as he approached the couch. "You look like you need these."

Bobby caught the bottle against his chest and took the glass. "Thanks."

Mike sat beside him, keeping his voice low when he spoke. "So, what happened? Did Alex blow up about Denise?"

"She didn't blow up about anything. She's simmering."

"That'll still burn you."

"You think I don't know that? I have no idea where I am with her right now, and she's not talking to me. One minute she seems worried, the next, she looks like she wants to shoot me. She keeps running hot and cold and it's driving me nuts."

"Maybe that's the point, to keep you from reading her, from being reassured. You scared the hell out of her. Now she's going to punish you for it."

"I imagine she was worried."

Mike barked out a short laugh. "Worried? Call that the understatement of the year. She called me at two in the morning. She hadn't heard from you since you left for Carmel Ridge, and the folks out there said you left at eight. Carolyn and I came over right away, so we were here when you called. The only thing she said before she told me to get my coat was 'I am going to kill him.' I have no idea what she said to Carolyn. That wasn't meant for my ears. But the longer we drove, the madder she got. Buddy, she was talking to herself. I know she wasn't talking to me, because the one time I answered her, she told me to shut up. I thought it was in my best interest to listen."

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"Hey, I'm not in it as deep as you this time. I'm on the outside looking in and it's a better place to be. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. She has to decide what it is she wants. I have no idea. At least she let me back in the apartment."

"Did she let you back in the bedroom?"

Bobby shook his head. "But that was my choice. I annoy her enough when I'm awake. She needs her sleep."

"She has a six week old kid. What sleep?"

Bobby let out a deep sigh. "Yeah...that's just something else for her to resent. I...slept through Molly's cries last night. I usually get up so she won't have to. I've been falling down on the job the past few days. She's going back to work, so I've got to take care of Molly."

Mike looked at Bobby's knee and then at the cane. "I want to see that trick."

"How do I keep fucking things up like this?"

"It's a gift."

Bobby held his cane and spun it in his hands. "I thought..." He trailed off. "I thought wrong."

"You do that a lot, but what did you think wrong this time?"

Idly, Bobby watched the cane twirl in his fingers, matching the spinning in his head. When it spun out of his grasp, it mimicked his life, spinning beyond his control yet again. "I thought...if I had her...I would finally be happy...but...everything is falling apart...and I can't stop it. I don't know what to do."

Mike was surprised. "You think this isn't fixable?"

"I don't know what I think any more."

Mike felt a surge of panic. "Bobby, look. You aren't really in a place where you should make any decisions. I wouldn't trust you to pick out a movie right now. Your mom just died and you got messed up in an accident. You're an emotional wreck. You're upset because Alex is pissed and that doesn't help matters any at all. I'd take you to my place to give you a break, but I don't think that's the right move. You need to be here, and more than anything else, you need to talk to her, really talk, not the half-assed shit you usually do. If she wants to know something, fucking tell her. It's time to own up to your life, past and present, or the future is just gonna fall apart."

Bobby didn't look away from the cane where it had come to rest on the floor. "Suppose it's too late?"

That was a scenario Mike didn't want to consider, but apparently, Bobby felt the need to address it. Mike knew he wanted honesty; Bobby relied on him for that. "Then you think about your kids and you move on."

"Move on? I couldn't do that seven years ago. What makes you think I could do it now?"

"You couldn't do it because you wouldn't let yourself do it. You could never let her go, even when you should have. If the bottom falls out of your marriage, then it's finally time. You can't hold onto an illusion forever. If you can't do it for yourself, you do it for the kids. They've been the focus of your life. Keep them there."

"Unna My! Joos peez!"

Mike patted Bobby's knee. "Talk to her."

He got up and went to get Tommy a cup of juice. _Talk to her. _But suppose she didn't like what he had to say? He felt trapped with no way out, and it was beginning to smother him.

* * *

Alex drove around for awhile, thinking. She hated how she was feeling. One minute she was fine, the next, she was furious, and she knew Bobby was suffering for it. She also knew he was beating himself up over what had happened and he really didn't need any help from her.

Finding herself near headquarters, she called the squadroom and asked Carolyn to meet her at the diner a few blocks away for lunch. She had been seated long enough to get a cup of coffee when Carolyn arrived, and a fresh cup of coffee was at the place across from her. Carolyn smiled as she slid into the booth. "How are Maggie and Bobby today? What did Dr. Wrightweiler say?"

"Nothing good. Bobby's injuries are more serious than they thought they were in the emergency room. But he did give me the name of a doctor to take Maggie to, and I made an appointment for her tomorrow afternoon."

"Is she feeling all right?"

Alex nodded. "She feels fine. She wanted to go to school this morning."

Carolyn studied her friend with an eye that read people well. "You're still angry."

"Yes. I try not to take it out on him, but I'm afraid I just make it worse when I don't talk to him."

"He can read your anger. You know that. He knows you haven't forgiven him." The waitress showed up to take their order. Once she was gone, Carolyn took a sip of hot coffee and said, "You need to think hard about what you're doing. Mike said something yesterday and I think he was right on the money."

"Mike is always on his side."

"Alex, _you_ should be on his side. Mike said the last thing Bobby needs right now is for you to be a hardass with him. Think about it. His mother attacked the kids, and he feels guilty about that because he feels he let it happen. Then, she died. That had to have hit him very hard. So he shut down, got distracted, whatever and ended up outside Syracuse. He should have called you. You know that and he does, too, but under duress, we don't always do the things we should. On top of everything else, Maggie was hurt when he wrecked his car. That's got to be especially hard for him. And consider the amount of pain he's in. The way you treat him now is going to make or break him. Do you really want to break him?"

"No. Of course not. But I won't let him off easy."

"How do you figure he's got it easy? Do you honestly think that anything you say or do is going to be any worse than the beating he's giving himself?"

Their meals arrived and they waited for the waitress to leave again. Alex drew in a deep breath. "He brings it on himself."

"In many ways, yes, he does. And he always regrets it."

"Exactly. He never learns."

"Do you think he intended for any of this to happen?"

"Of course not."

Carolyn leaned forward. "Alex, you have to forgive him and let this go. You have to let him know that you still love him because he's going to be doubting that now."

Alex closed her eyes. Let go...that wasn't easy to do. Forcing her eyes open, she looked at her friend. "What do you suggest I do about Denise?"

"Not a thing. Leave him alone about her. Show him that you trust him that much. Do you honestly think he would ever be unfaithful to you?"

"No."

"All right, then. Trust him to manage his friendship with her. He's not going to jeopardize his marriage. If he was sneaking around with her, do you think for a moment he would have the kids along? Give him some credit. He waited a long time for you. If he wanted her, then he wouldn't be with you now. Alex, don't drive him away. There are no winners in that scenario."

"Do you think I could drive him away?"

"I think there is only so much he can handle. Don't test his limits."

Alex took her advice to heart and when she left the diner, she went home.

* * *

When she entered the apartment, she was surprised not to hear a greeting of any sort. The lights were dimmed, and she could make out Bobby, sleeping on the couch. Then she heard voices drifting down the hall. She found Mike sitting on the floor in Tommy's room with Maggie on his lap. Tommy sat halfway across the room and they were playing catch with an orange foam ball about the size of a grapefruit. Every time Maggie threw the ball and it bounced off Tommy's head or his face, they would both giggle.

Tommy noticed her first, scrambling to his feet and hurtling himself across the room into her arms. "Mama!" After hugging her, he leaned back and put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh. Dada seep."

"I saw him." She looked at Maggie. "How do you feel, Maggie?"

"I'm good, Mommy."

Mike kissed Maggie's head and said, "Stay here and play with Tom. I have to talk to Mommy."

"Okay, Uncle Mike."

He set her gently on the floor as Alex put Tommy down. He scrambled back to the ball and sat down to continue the game with Maggie.

Mike stepped into the hall with Alex and they walked to the living room. "Alex, you have to do something about Bobby. He's not doing well at all. He thinks he really blew it this time, and he's expecting you to toss him out." He leaned against the wall. "He's used to things in his life not working out, and that's where he thinks you're headed. So if you want to save your marriage, you'd better set this right."

She frowned. "I am not the one in the wrong here, Logan."

"Right or wrong, what does it matter? Do you want to lose him?"

Irritation overwhelmed her. "Why? Is he talking about going back to Denise?"

Mike ran a hand over his hair and groaned in frustration. "No. He's not. He's looking for any indication that you want him to stick around and he can't find one. Talk to him. You're either going to work it out or you're going to lose him. The ball's in your court now. He's done fighting."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he'll do whatever you want him to do. If you want him to leave, then he'll go. It's all about you, Alex. Just like it's always been."

He started back down the hall but she grabbed his arm. "What the hell does that mean?"

He looked at her, anger sharp in his eyes. "It means just what I said. It's all about you. It's always been all about you. The guy lives and dies by your command. Give him a break. His world revolves around you and those kids. Don't destroy it."

He pulled away from her and continued down the hall. "Mike."

He stopped but didn't turn. "What?"

"What did he tell you?"

"He's afraid, Alex. He doesn't know how to fix it, and I'm afraid he's giving up. You have to make this right or everything's over. He doesn't have much left to give."

"Would you please stay? Keep Maggie and Tom in there so I can talk to him."

"Yeah, sure."

"How long has he been sleeping?"

"A couple of hours. I gave him his medicine while the kids had lunch and he was asleep by the time they were done. They were disappointed, but Maggie seems to understand he needs to rest."

"Maggie always understands him. I wish I did."

"You do, when you let yourself."

She watched him turn into Tom's room and she listened to the happy laughter that spilled into the hall. She turned back to the living room, watching the sleeping form of her husband on the couch. She wondered how everything had gotten turned around, making her the one in the wrong. She didn't like that one bit. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the couch, watching Bobby sleep. Reaching out, she combed her fingers through his hair, and he stirred.

It took a few minutes for him to fully rouse himself. Blinking hard, he struggled to clear his mind. "Alex? When did you get home?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. I had lunch with Carolyn."

"Oh." He looked around. "Where's Mike?"

"He's playing with the kids in Tom's room. I need to talk to you."

He forced himself to sit up, which moved him away from her. He scrubbed his left hand over his face, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. The pain that radiated sharply from his knee and hip helped to chase away the rest of the fog. "I, uhm, I need to go to the funeral home in the morning. I...I'll just take the train...but I'll be back...for Maggie's appointment..."

He planned to deal with his mother's funeral arrangements, with her death, on his own, as he always did with everything that concerned her. He had always told her that his mother was his responsibility, and his alone, to bear. It had never been a burden he was willing to share, with her or anyone else, not even his brother, had Frank ever been willing to be involved. Unable to drive, he never thought to ask for her help. He was going to manage it alone.

She should have been angry, but her anger was spent and she didn't have it in her to summon more. She had taken out the bulk of her rage on him, and she wasn't sure he'd weathered the storm very well. If she believed Mike, which she was inclined to do, Bobby's ship had wrecked in the storm. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, which was something he desperately needed, but suddenly, everything came crashing down on her. She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away from him.

He watched her until he saw her shoulders shake and she stifled a sob. Reaching out, he touched her tentatively. She turned suddenly and fell against him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her as she cried, and he had no idea what to make of it. He felt lost, floundering alone at sea with no land in sight and no way to know which direction to go in order to find it.

* * *

**A/N: Up next--the talk which has been so long in coming. Everything will come out once and for all, and it's going to save or shatter this relationship.**


	13. A UTurn in the Road

**A/N: Been beat up by RL lately, so, rather than make everyone wait longer for the next chapter, I divided it and will continue the talk in the next chapter. The muse is spinning in circles over it, so we'll see what comes along. For those of you who wonder about Maggie's maturity, some of her characteristics are based on what I know from my own kids. Last week, I had a conversation with my 10-year-old (that's Katie) about William McKinley, and she told me "Oh, he was the 25th President." Then, last night, my 7-year-old (he's Josh) told me he wants a bank account so he can put his money in the bank and can save for a house and for his children's college and for a Wii. I wasn't worried about _my_ college when I was seven. Kids...  
**

* * *

Once she was cried out, she remained in his arms, pressed against his chest. He made no move to release her while she composed herself. When she finally sat back, he let her go. "My God, Bobby...what have we done to each other?"

"I don't know, but tell me how to fix it and I will."

"Some things can't be fixed," she said quietly.

He looked away, toward the floor. That was the last thing he wanted to hear from her. She moved closer and rested her hand on his leg. "Don't take that the wrong way," she said softly. "I don't want to be mad at you, but could you have handled this whole thing any worse? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I called Carmel Ridge at ten-thirty and they told me you left at eight." She felt frustration come boiling up along with the final vestiges of her anger. "No one told me about your mother! Carmel Ridge is an hour away. Even allowing time for you to stop for dinner, you should have been home. You didn't come home and you didn't call. It would have been bad enough if you had been alone, but Maggie was with you! I was worried sick and mad as hell. Finally, you call, at almost six the next morning, from Syracuse. Syracuse, Bobby! Your brain went on vacation and you drove more than two hundred _miles_ out of your way! That's not a detour. That's not your mind wandering. You did the same thing after your last interview at Riker's with Nicole. Remember? Where the hell does your mind go?" She waved a hand impatiently. "No, don't tell me. I don't think I want to know. On top of everything else, you wrecked the car and Maggie was hurt. It could have been serious. I saw red. All I wanted to do was get Maggie and bring her home. I could not deal with you right then. God, Bobby. I have never been so mad at you. Never. This tops everything you've ever done. You were careless, thoughtless and reckless. I lost it. I have _never _been that angry."

She was shaking and he had no idea what to do. He had no defense for what he'd done and he wasn't inclined to try finding one. He had no excuses, no explanations. He looked down at his hands, and his eye caught the jagged laceration that trailed along the back of his arm. Seventeen stitches, he remembered. Then he looked at the new cast on his other arm. He was drawn from his reflection when her hand cupped his chin and guided his face back around to look at her. He sighed softly but said nothing.

"Syracuse, Bobby. Four hours. Where was your head?"

He cast his eyes downward, but said nothing.

"And then...and then..._Maggie_ tells me that Gramma went to heaven. I heard about your mother's death from our five-year-old! Dammit, Bobby! You should have called me before you ever left Carmel Ridge, or let Maggie call me, or something! Anything!" Her shaking got worse. "Your mother _died_ and you never thought to call me! God, what is wrong with you?"

Tears spilled over onto her cheeks again. She slipped off her shoes and turned on the couch so that her back was to him, drawing her legs up in front of her. She hugged her legs and pressed her forehead into her knees. With an effort, she calmed herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I am just so...I don't even know what I am." Slowly, she turned to look at him, and she saw more emotion in his face than she ever had. He was so overwhelmed by everything he didn't know what to feel, what to say or what to do, and for the first time since the accident, she let her heart go out to him. She pulled herself onto her knees and sat back on her heels. Gently, she took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. "I don't know the words to describe how much I love you, but I do, you big pain in the ass. I love you more than anyone in the world and if you ever do this to me again, I swear I will kill you."

She moved suddenly and pressed her mouth against his in a deep, hard kiss. After she pulled back, he slowly opened his eyes. Quietly, he said the only thing that would come to his mind. "I'm so sorry."

She sat back and folded her hands in her lap, sitting on her legs. The conversation they were about to enter was going to be a very difficult one, and she was determined not to let him retreat from it. She was done living in the shadows of his past. Everything would be brought to light now or she could not go on with him. She was his wife, his partner in life, or she wasn't. If he could not trust her completely, they had nothing. "We need to talk, and you need to level with me, about everything. I am your wife, and yet Logan knows you better. Sometimes, I think Maggie knows you better. It's time for you to come clean with me, Bobby."

He shifted restlessly, sensing what was coming. Was he willing to open up the way she was demanding? In spite of the distracting pain he was suffering, physical and emotional, he realized that he would have to, or he would lose her forever. He had a hard choice to make. Either he would have to answer her questions, all of them, with complete honesty, or he would have to let her go, once and for all.

Struggling to sound encouraging and not confrontational, she began with the events that had unfolded over the weekend. To emphasize her encouragement, she touched his hand, leaving it to him to hold it or not. He chose not, so she left her fingers resting against the back of his hand. "Tell me what happened Saturday. They never said anything about your mother being on her deathbed."

"It was...sudden. They didn't know, until after we got there."

"And...why didn't you call me? That's the one thing that has me the most baffled. Your mother was dying, and you didn't call me. Then she died, and you didn't call me. You wouldn't even let Maggie call me. I don't understand that at all."

How could he explain himself? He had no reason for not calling her beyond the fact that he had simply shut down. It had been a real struggle for him to deal with Maggie. He had nothing to give beyond that. He had not thought of calling her, and Maggie's pleas to let her do it had never really registered with him. "I...I suppose I was in denial...until it actually happened, and by then I was...I was in shock. I just...I shut down. That's all I can say."

"Your mind shut down so you got behind the wheel?"

"I was headed home. I swear I was. I pulled out of the lot at Carmel Ridge and the next thing I knew we were approaching Syracuse. I...I lost those four hours, Alex. I have no memory of any of it."

She remembered that he'd lost several hours after his final confrontation with Wallace at Rikers, but he hadn't left the city then. "Getting into the car and driving was the worst thing you could have done."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. And that's going to hit you every time you see Maggie hobbling around on her crutches."

He recoiled at the reminder, flinching visibly. "Are...are you sure...y-you still, uh, want me around? I mean...I broke Maggie...and..."

Reaching up, she moved to place her hand over his mouth, but again, he flinched. She leaned over so that she could see his face. "What is up with that? Bobby, I have never hit you. Why are you doing that?"

He truly did not know how to explain something he didn't understand himself. It was something he suspected came from his childhood, but he didn't know for sure. It had never come up before. "I...I don't know. I...the movement...it...it'll pass. I guess...my mother...I...I don't know..."

That gave her the opening she needed. "Did you know that I went out to see your mother on my own?"

He frowned. "No. When?"

"Several times. I...wanted to get to know the woman who was responsible for the man I married. Bobby, if I had seen pictures of you when you were little while I was married to Ricky, I would have know for certain that Maggie was not his. She looks just like you. You were an adorable baby. I can't believe you never saw it."

"Why would I look for it? I had no reason to believe she was mine, remember?"

She conceded that and went on. "You seemed like a happy little guy, but then...something happened to you. I don't think your mother ever saw it, but I did. You became...haunted. What caused that? What sent that happy little boy into hiding?"

He shook his head slowly. "You don't want to know, Alex."

Her eyes narrowed and flashed a warning. "Yes, I do. You have always shut me out of your past, but it made you who you are. I want to know how that came about."

He rubbed his temple and pressed his fingers into the soft spot beside his eye. He thought she was all right with him, never knowing the nightmare truth of his upbringing. He realized he could never do justice to the memories, but whatever he did say would be bad enough. It was easy for her to say it wouldn't matter. She didn't know. What now? He was trapped, and he felt his anxiety level increasing.

Alex remained removed from him, watching and waiting, to see if he would start talking. She watched him start to shift and she began to think he was going to shut down on her again. She honestly wasn't sure just what she would do if he did, but she made up her mind not to take it any more.

Distracted by his pain and the panic that was slowly building deep in his gut, Bobby struggled mightily to get a grip on himself. It was slowly dawning on him that this was it. This was his last chance to make everything right with his wife because she was not going to let him bury his head in the sand, next to his heart, any more. Once, he had told Nicole Wallace that she hid her heart in a bunker. Was he any better? He knew he was damaged, and Alex knew that, too, from the very start. Did she honestly think any sort of band-aid she could offer would fix the critical wounds he had been subjected to all his life? Didn't she realize that the damage was cumulative, and it was something she would never be able to fix, no matter how hard she tried? He loved his wife, but she was not God and she could not heal him. No one could. Now, once and for all, it was time for her to realize that. Would she still want him around once she knew the extent of the damage? He had to face reality for once, and he could not believe that she would. If his own mother didn't want him, how could she? His luck had run its course and now he was at the end of the line.

Alex watched the storm of emotion play across Bobby's face, and she knew the exact moment he reached his decision. She did not like the look on his face. It was one of surrender, of defeat. Total defeat. Her eyes filled with tears, but she forced them back and continued to wait for him to talk, praying to every deity she knew that he would.

His head was pounding and he felt sick to his stomach, but he swallowed the bile at the back of his throat and said, "Be specific, Eames. What do you want to know?"

His tone was remote, detached. He had given up the fight and surrendered his soul. What happened from here on out was beyond his control. Everything was now up to her.


	14. Laying It All Out

**A/N: Tis the season...Happy Holidays. Here is the talk everyone has been waiting for. Many thanks to my dear friend, deliriousdancer, for her feedback! I hope this was worth the wait.**

* * *

_What do you want to know?_ How did she answer that? She thought she was prepared for anything he could tell her, but where to begin? As far back as he could remember. Understanding began at the start of it all.

"You were a happy little boy once," she answered. "I want to know what happened to you."

_No, you don't,_ he thought. _You really, really don't._ But she thought she did and this was her show. He hoped she realized that once the words were spoken, there was no way to take them back and nothing was ever going to remove the images he was about to place in her mind. There were two things he hoped would not happen. He did not want to see any pity on her face; he couldn't take that, especially not from her. But even more than that, he could only hope that the things she was about to hear would not come between them and drive her—and his children—away from him. He couldn't change the past any more than he could let it go, but he had always managed to keep it inside, mostly. She was no longer going to allow him to do that, and he resented it. Swallowing the resentment so it would not show, he proceeded cautiously, doing his best to push aside the pain in his body and in his soul and to ignore the spins and dips his head was taking as he looked around the room, anywhere but at her.

"You've already heard some of it," he murmured, taking as deep a breath as his injured ribs would allow. "I was seven...when my mother had her first break. My father...my father was a drunk, a gambler, and a womanizer. My brother is a junkie and a gambler, a player, like Dad was. Both of them...handsome, charming...and unreliable. You know...my childhood was...difficult." He shifted uncomfortably and withdrew his hand from underneath hers. He remained removed from her, physically and emotionally, and she had the sense to let him be, to do what he needed to do to give her what she wanted. On one hand, he did not understand her need to know the intimate details of his difficult past. On the other, he did understand, and he hoped it would not be too much for her. "I learned to...read the signs, to know when she was heading for a break. Sometimes, I missed it, like I did this weekend, and I always paid for it. Always."

She reached toward him, but he pulled back, away from the motion, away from her. She withdrew her hand and waited.

He stared at the floor, looking for something to focus on, away from the words he was forming to try to describe something shapeless and indefinite to someone who could not see it, who never would. "She broke my collarbone when I was eight. Just before my tenth birthday, she threw me down the basement stairs to hide me from 'them' and broke my leg. I can't tell you how many times she locked me in a closet to 'protect' me from 'them'...until, one day, when I was eleven, I became 'them'. Her solution to dealing with my, uh, 'possession', was to beat the demons out of me. No matter how she chose to 'protect' me...I suffered for it." He found something...a small red ball Tom had left on the floor near the coffee table. "My...my father...was away a lot. She missed him, so she doted on Frank. He was her...emotional substitute. I was...her burden. Sometimes...she hit him...sometimes...she hurt him...but not like she hurt me."

Sweat beaded on his forehead. She wanted to know, so fine, he would tell her. And when the nightmares began for her...He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and never felt it at all. It was the taste of the blood in his mouth that told him what he'd done. He ignored it, wiping the blood from his mouth with an annoyed swipe of his hand. "I was twelve...when she chased me out of the house with a baseball bat because I was the devil impersonating her son. Frank found me under the porch and handed me half a pack of cigarettes. He told me to get lost, that he would make sure Mom got to the hospital when the cops got there. I got Lewis and we went down to the river. Frank hadn't given me cigarettes. That was the first time I ever got stoned." He closed his eyes. That was one of the less painful memories...one of the scattered memories that he recalled almost with fondness. Most of his decent childhood memories involved Lewis or his grandparents, who died when he was still young. Some of them involved Frank and a few were of his mom. "About six months later, Dad took us both along with him to the bar down the street because Mom was in the hospital and Lewis was out of town with his family. He didn't want to hassle with the neighbors, trying to find someone to watch me, and he didn't trust me on my own. Frank got to join the game; I was the...the gopher. I spent the night running back and forth from the back room to the bar. And every time I brought a drink to one of them, they made me take a drink of it. I didn't like it at first...and then...well, the taste wasn't so bad. By the time Dad dragged us home the next morning, neither of us could walk. Dad thought it was funny as hell. I was sick for three days. He told Mom and the school I had the flu. It kind of went...south...from there. I got in trouble, a lot. I spent a lot of time with Lewis. We got drunk and stole a car when we were fifteen, just for fun. Lewis was almost sober enough to drive. Looking back, it was a good thing we didn't kill someone or wreck the car. But it _was _fun, until the cops brought me home. Dad beat the shit out of me for doing something that brought the cops to his place; Mom was in the hospital. I dated whatever girls wanted to go out with me, and I spent time with Frank, until he was a junior and began to run with a really rough crowd. That...uh, they were the ones...they got him hooked and he never came back. I was...smart enough, I guess, to never let them get to me. Sometimes...I, uh, I did use, with my brother...but never like he did. Never. I walked away from it when I watched him OD and almost die. He spent two weeks in the hospital and my mother blamed me for it. When he got out of the hospital, he went right back to using. I swore I would never be that way, and I never was. I never fell that far."

Alex watched his face, but there was no emotion there as he revisited the past, only pain. He was distancing himself from everything and using his physical pain to focus his mind away from his emotions. She was almost sorry she forced him into this, but not sorry enough to let him stop. When she reached toward him and he pulled away, she could feel his resentment and his anger, and she allowed him those, withdrawing and folding her hands in her lap, fisted together to prevent her from trying to reach out to him again. She felt her own level of pain and anger, neither directed toward him, and she realized there was no way she could ever comprehend what his young life had been like.

Her parents had been strict but loving. Her childhood traumas had been normal—dumped by a boyfriend, stupid brothers who embarrassed her, and one who pushed her out of a tree when she teased him. She got a cast on her arm and he got grounded for a month and was forced to wait on her until her cast came off. She'd liked that deal. But nothing in her experience, as a person or even as a cop, prepared her for the things she was hearing now. She knew that children were abused, even killed, on a daily basis, and she'd seen some terrible things, but, somehow, this was different. This was her husband, the father of her children. She knew he had overcome a difficult past. She had always admired him for the man he'd become, but she had no idea just what he had overcome, and it was staggering.

He ran a dry tongue over drier lips, and he did not react when she got off the couch. He heard her rummaging around in the kitchen, and he used the time to refocus. His mind slipped into the past, returning when she sat back beside him and lightly touched his arm. Jerked back to the present, he shifted away from her again, refusing to look at her. She held out a glass of water and his prescription bottle, bringing both into his line of vision. He accepted them, taking a drink of the water and setting both on the table. He needed his physical pain to get through this talk.

He leaned forward, braced his elbows on his knees and stared at nothing. "I was a little kid, size-wise, like Tommy will be. I was twelve when I got bigger than Mom and almost sixteen when I passed Frank and Dad. But I never thought to use my size against them. I was always the same little kid, getting beat for being bad, for being stupid, for being one of 'them'. Dad ridiculed me for never sticking up for myself, for never using my size to my advantage, even with him. Frank...never laid a hand on me, but every time he got me drunk, or high, or laid...he always went boasting to Dad that he was making a man out of me. Dad told him he was wasting his time. I tried to get Dad's attention, to make him proud, because he was my dad. As I got older, though, I learned to hate him, and I swore I would never, ever be like him. I always swore I would be better. I always tried to be, and somehow I always seemed to fall short of the mark. I was never good enough, until I became a cop. And that was one of the biggest disappointments to my mother, that I wasted my intelligence being a cop. She raised me to be better than that, to be intellectual, to be smart. I was always a disappointment to her..." He raised his head and looked toward the hallway. "Until they came along, until I married you. It was the only thing I ever got right in my life."

_And now...now I'm going to lose it all, and my failure as a person will be complete._

He diverted his eyes again and she shifted her position, though she was careful to still give him his space, to offer no sign of anything he could misconstrue as pity. She did not pity him. It hurt her deep inside, in a place she never knew existed, that he had been so mistreated, more than she had ever realized, but the fruit born of that pain was not pity. It was respect. It was awe. It was love.

He snapped his head toward her suddenly, and when the room settled down, he did not see what he expected to see. He was puzzled. "Why...why aren't you angry?"

She was going to have to proceed cautiously. "Why would I be angry? Bobby, you were a victim, as much as any victim we have ever encountered. You are a survivor."

"Damaged goods," he murmured.

"Who isn't damaged in some way? Life is hard. Some suffer more than others, but everyone suffers." She watched the alarm in his face as he looked toward the hallway, and she understood. "Yes, even they have suffered, and they will. It's our job to make them strong so it doesn't tear them apart, so they can survive it, too. Suffering makes us stronger."

He let those words roll around in his head and he tucked them away to deal with later. He turned his face back toward her. "So now you know a little more about my fucked up start in life. Now you know the circumstances that led me toward being the man I am now. I can't tell you every detail because I don't remember a lot of them. And I won't sit here forever recounting every beating I took and every abuse they heaped on me. I think you get the idea, and the idea is bad enough."

She was willing to give him that, and she nodded. It was time to move on to more recent events. "The day I married Ricky, you told me you were okay."

He shrugged, almost relieved by the shift in topic, although that time in his life had its own difficulties. "I lied."

"Apparently, you lied to me a lot while I was married to him."

"The details of my life were on a need-to-know basis. You didn't need to know."

"And Mike did."

Irritation surged, but he quickly swallowed it by focusing on pain. His voice was calm but strained. "You would have preferred for me to have no one? How fair is that, Eames? You had the world by the balls, and I got kicked aside. I didn't matter. So why do you resent the one friend I did have, the one person I was able to turn to?"

"I never kicked you aside," she hissed. "I never turned you away. You were the one who turned from me."

"Because you were married! Dammit, that made you off limits to me!"

"Not as your friend."

He shook his head. "It wasn't the same. You were unavailable, and I wasn't going to call you away from your husband....for anything beyond work. That was never my place. When you got married... everything changed. Our relationship was irrevocably altered and there was nothing I could do about it."

"It changed because you let it."

He shook his head slowly. "No. It changed because it had to. I..." He closed his eyes. "I had to let you go, only...I couldn't. I tried, but I couldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

He was getting agitated. "Your wedding...was difficult for me."

"I know you had a hard time."

"You have no idea."

She tried to gauge if he was ready to be touched, but he was not giving her any clear signals. She kept their contact verbal. "So give me an idea."

He fisted his hands and stared at the floor. "I have been...in love with you...for a long time. F-For years. When you married Ricky...it was...painful...for me. It was a...loss...I had trouble recovering from. Mike...took me home that night...made sure I got home...and stayed with me. When I went out of town for the week...he...checked on me, every day...and drove up to spend the weekend with me. Mike..." He drew in an uneven breath. "He's been the best friend I've ever had, and he has never asked for a damn thing in return." Finally he looked at her, his eyes filled with pain. "And you resent him for that."

"No," she answered. "I love him for that. I resent the fact that he knows you better than I do, that you open up to him and close yourself off to me."

Again he averted his eyes. "I'm trying...to be more open. It's...not easy."

"Because you think you'll lose me if I know the truth."

She watched him close his eyes, not responding, and she knew that was a major reason for his fear and his withdrawal from her. She shifted closer to him on the couch, relieved that he did not move away, but she still refrained from touching him. "So it was Mike who got you through my marriage."

Slowly, Bobby shook his head. "No. He tried, but he couldn't do it. I was still...slipping away, I guess. I...tried to forget...to cope with the pain...by drinking...by...looking for some kind of...substitute, but nothing worked."

Alex frowned. "I don't understand. If it wasn't Mike...then it had to be...Denise..."

Again Bobby shook his head. "No. They both tried, but it wasn't them. It was Maggie."

"Maggie?" She sat back and gave that some thought. "Maggie...of course...No one has ever touched your heart the way she did."

"She saved me from myself just be being born. I found...an interest in life again...through her. I might have lost you, but with Maggie around, some of the pain slipped away. I can't...explain it. I just know...what she means to me."

"And the women you dated?"

"I didn't _date_ many. There were a lot of...one night stands and women who refused to share me with you and Maggie. There were a couple who work at 1PP, and then there was Denise. After Maggie was born, it was mainly Denise, and then, it was only Denise, because she loves Maggie and she always understood me, somehow. She never asked me for more than I could give."

"Denise," she said softly, struggling with a mixture of jealousy, resentment and gratitude. "Did you...do you...love her?"

God, that was a complicated question, one he was not sure he had an answer for. He finished the water, but when he went to set it back on the table, he hit the edge of it and the glass fell from his grasp. Alex leaned over and picked it up, setting it in place. Then she sat back and watched him, waiting. He drew his lower lip in between his teeth and sighed. "I...could have...would have...if...if I had not been so in love with you. It was grossly unfair to her, but...she never stepped away, and I never asked her to. I...needed her, and she seemed to know that, but I was never able to sort through my feelings for her."

She watched him closely as she continued to pursue the subject. "What about now?"

He arched an eyebrow and looked at her. "I have never been unfaithful to you. I love you too much."

"I never thought you were, but I need to know exactly where she stands with you."

He sighed. "She is my friend, that's all. We...talked about it, after your divorce. She always knew that if you ever became available to me, you would be my first choice. You were always my first choice, my only choice in some ways, and she accepted that. It wasn't fair, to either of us, but that's the way it was."

She almost dreaded his answer to her next question. "If we didn't work out for some reason, would you go back to her?"

He studied her, unable to find any reason why that would matter. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Answer me and then I will tell you."

She wanted honesty, so he would give her what she wanted. "If she would have me, yes."

She reached out and touched his arm, and this time he did not pull away. "I have no intention of going anywhere," she assured him. "But I'd like to know you still had someone around who cares about you."

He frowned. "I would never ask her to wait for me. She's dating and if she decides to marry, I would never do anything to hold her back. If you ever left me...I would have to manage...on my own, and I would, as long as I have my children. If you ever took them away..."

She was shaking her head. "No. I would never do that. Never."

"Then there's no problem."

She sighed. "Tell me why you were always so available to me. Every time I called you, you dropped what you were doing, and who you were doing it with, to come to me."

"Why? I gave you my word that you could always depend on me, that's why. I try to never go back on my word. After Maggie was born, it was all about her." He looked at the table, at the empty glass. "You took advantage of that," he softly accused.

She opened her mouth to argue, but found no argument to use. He was right. "You let me," she answered, defensive.

"Yes, I did, but only because I loved you. I couldn't tell you that, but I did."

"I knew. So did Ricky. That was why he hated you so much." She hesitated. "And you did tell me, a few times. But never when you were in your right mind, not the way you meant it when you weren't."

He rubbed his forehead. "Your dad...told me I loved you too much."

"Do you think you did?"

"At first, no. Then later, maybe. But how could I change that? I couldn't. So I coped the best way I knew how, as messed up as it was. I was able to let you go some after Maggie was born, but I could never let go completely. Not enough to let me give myself to someone else. I didn't have anything to give."

She withdrew her hand from his arm. "I almost left Ricky, did you know that? Then I got pregnant, and I had to stay, to try to make it work. How ironic is that? The child that saved you also kept you from getting what you wanted."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world."

Alex nodded. "I know. But you resented her before she was born. I saw that."

"All that changed when she was born. Then everything became her. Everything was her."

Alex was quite for a moment, her mind traveling into the very recent past. "When she nearly died...I saw a big part of you dying with her."

He closed his eyes, shuddering at the memory. "I...don't think I could have survived that," he said honestly.

She agreed. "I don't think so either."

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I...don't know if I could handle losing you again much better than I did the last time, except for the kids."

She was very quiet before asking, "What did Mike say about it?"

It was his turn to be quiet. "He said if it's too late, I need to think about the kids and move on, to focus on them. I couldn't move on before; I'd have to now."

"And what do you think?"

He swallowed a surge of panic, not liking the turn the conversation had taken. "I think...he's right."

"So are we done or do we fix it?"

He couldn't look at her and he chewed on his lip, making it bleed again. "I thought you said some things couldn't be fixed."

"I told you not to take that the wrong way."

"So what's the right way, Alex? How am I supposed to interpret that if you don't tell me what you mean?"

"I meant what's done is done and there is no way to undo it. We can't fix the past. Now us...we can always fix our relationship as long as it's something we both want to work on. Once either one of us is done, then it's over."

"Are you done?"

"With you?" She moved closer and reached out to him, resting her hand lightly on his chest. He let her. "No, Bobby. I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot."

He met her eyes. "So we can...work this out? And not...not just for the kids, but for... for us?"

She nodded. "For us. If you're willing to do the work."

"Just...tell me...tell me what to do."

She gently wiped the blood from his lip with her thumb, which she then wiped on his jeans. He almost smiled. She let out a soft breath. "First, _we_ are going to the funeral home tomorrow. Not you. Us. _We_ will make the family decisions together. She was part of me, too, because she was part of you. Then _we_ will take Maggie to the doctor. I want you to start thinking in terms of we and us, not you and me. It will take some time and effort, I know. But it's something I really do need you to do."

He nodded. "Do you want me to...stop...uh, to end my friendship with Denise?"

She watched him brace himself for the answer. Just that he was willing enough to do that for her was enough. "No, Bobby. I don't." She thought about how to explain herself. "Denise has been an important part of your life. When you needed her, she was there, in every way I couldn't be. And then when I became available, she had the courage to let you go and step back into a lesser role. I trust you. And I trust her."

"That's a lot of trust, Alex."

She nodded slowly. "You've earned it. If I can't trust you, then we don't have anything."

He held her gaze. "Thank you."

She picked up the prescription bottle and set it in his hand. "Take your medicine and get some rest." She leaned closer. "I'm worried about you."

He took the bottle and dumped a couple of the pills into his hand. She took the bottle from him and took the empty glass into the kitchen. Setting the bottle on the refrigerator, she refilled the glass with water and brought it to him. He swallowed the medicine, not sure if it was all right to feel relieved. He laid back, on the downside of the adrenaline rush from his panic. She sat beside him and laid her hand gently on his chest. "I just want a couple of promises."

"Like what?" he asked, his tone cautious.

"I don't expect perfection, but I want you to try. Stop hiding from me. I'm your wife. Trust me." She combed her fingers through his hair, relieved when he let her. "There is nothing you can tell me from your past that would change the way I feel. I'm sorry I used you like I did, and I will make that up to you. But please, stop running from me."

He sighed softly and nodded. "I'll try," he promised.

Slowly, he turned onto his side, into a position where the pain wasn't so bad. He draped his arm over her lap, and he let himself return to sleep.

* * *

Maggie was disappointed when she came out into the living room to find her father still sleeping. Alex easily read her disappointment. "Daddy needs sleep, Maggie. That's the best way for him to get better."

"Why was Daddy sad b'fore?"

Always this child could read her father's moods. "He was thinking about Gramma, that's all."

"Is you still mad at Daddy? That makes him sad, too."

"You're right. It does. And no, I'm not mad at him any more."

Maggie nodded as she hobbled to the couch and gently touched Bobby's cheek. She kissed him before making her way to the table for supper, satisfied that Daddy would be okay.


	15. Resolution

**A/N: Ashtonsgirl asked me if I could try to post another chapter before the holidays, and I actually managed to get one done, in spite of the insanity! Happy holidays to everyone!**

* * *

Bobby shifted on the couch and coughed. Pain seared through his ribs and he groaned. Slowly, he opened his eyes. The room was dark. The shades on the window across the room were illuminated by the streetlights; it was night.

He sat up slowly and scrubbed his left hand over his face, wincing at the burning in his lip where he'd bitten it earlier. The minor pain brought back memories of the talk he'd had with Alex, and he could not help wondering about the repercussions. Would she ultimately decide that he was not worth the effort, that the impact of his past was too great a risk to take where the children were concerned? He looked across the room, but Molly's playpen was still there, and so was the kids' toybox. There were still toys on the floor, and the kids' boots and jackets were where they belonged by the door. He relaxed a little. They were still there.

He heard a noise in the kitchen, followed by a small exclamation. Rising, he limped carefully across the room, which wasn't spinning as badly as it had been earlier. He looked into the kitchen, dimly lit by the light over the stove. The little stepstool the kids used was pushed against the cabinets below the sink and a small cup sat beside the dish drain. The refrigerator door was open and Maggie was trying to manage carrying the milk while still using her crutches. She dropped the milk jug, apparently not for the first time. "Shoot," she muttered.

He smiled. "Problem, mouse?"

She turned and her face lit up. "Hi, Daddy! I'm jus' tryin' to figger out how to bring the milk to my cup." A thoughtful look crossed her face, the look that Alex always said made her look the most like him. "Maybe I should bring my cup to the milk."

"That's a good idea. Do you want me to help you?"

"No thanks, Daddy. I can do it."

He watched her hobble over to the sink and grab her cup. He felt something catch in the center of his chest. Alex was right. Every time he saw Maggie hobbling about on her crutches, he would be reminded of his inadequacies, his failure to protect her from harm and take care of her. He would feel the guilt that burdened him for causing her injuries.

Maggie turned from the sink, then stopped and turned back, placing her cup back on the counter. She carefully climbed the stepstool again and grabbed a glass from the drain. She filled the glass with water and set it by the drain next to her cup. Bobby was impressed by her cautious mobility. Not once did she bear any weight on her broken leg. Getting off the stool, she then grabbed her cup by its handle and hobbled back to the refrigerator. "I got you some water, Daddy. You should take your med'cine."

She poured the milk into her cup, sloshing only a little onto the floor. Putting the milk back in the refrigerator, she picked up her cup and looked around, trying to figure out how to get away from the refrigerator with her cup.

Bobby stepped forward, gently taking her cup from her and setting it on the counter. Then he took her crutches and set them aside, lifting her in his arms. He hugged her and set her on the counter beside her cup. He could tell she was hurting. "Does your leg hurt?"

She nodded. "It feels like my heart," she said, opening and closing her fist. "Like this."

He understood the throbbing pain she described and he got her medicine from beside his on the refrigerator. "Yours, too, Daddy," she insisted.

He hesitated, but grabbed his own prescription bottle and dumped two pills into his hand. He poured her medicine into a medicine cup and handed it to her before getting the water she'd gotten for him.

Maggie took her medicine and then picked up her milk. Bobby opened the pantry and got her two cookies. "Thank you," she smiled.

He leaned heavily on the counter beside her. "How was Mommy tonight?"

"Good. After Uncle Mike left, she played with Tommy and me. She wasn' as sad. We had chicken an' rice for dinner. I he'ped her give Molly a bath after Tommy went to bed and then I went to bed. Are you hungry, Daddy? You missed dinner."

He shook his head. His stomach was still too much in knots for him to manage a decent meal. "No. I'm not hungry."

She leaned into him and rested her head against his arm. "You needa eat, Daddy. Mommy put dinner for you inna fridge."

"Are you ready to go back to bed, baby?"

"Are you gonna eat?"

He turned to look at her. She had that stubborn look on her face that he knew so well. "Let me tuck you in and then I'll try to eat."

"Promise?"

His face relaxed into a brief smile. "Yes, I promise."

She finished the last of her milk and waited for him. He lifted her off the counter and set her on the floor. He didn't want to risk carrying her. His knee was showing a tendency to buckle, and he still could not get his head to settle down. She grabbed her crutches and he followed her to her room, where he tucked her back into her bed and gave her a gentle kiss. "Sleep well, mouse."

She smiled at him and rested a small hand against his cheek. "Good night, Daddy. An' 'member to eat."

He nodded as he rose, swallowing a grunt when his hip and knee protested his weight. Limping to the door, he looked back at Maggie. She had turned onto her side, snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes. He could not imagine his life without her. Turning off the light, he pulled the door closed.

He hesitated for a moment, looking toward the door of his bedroom. He had given Alex what she wanted, a glimpse into his past. No, more than a glimpse. He gave her a full-fledged look. Only three people now living knew more about it:his brother Frank, Lewis, because he had lived much of it with him, and Mike, because he asked the right questions after just the right amount of alcohol to get him to talk. Mike's childhood had been no cakewalk, either, another bond they shared. The past was a two-way street with them, give and take. He did not have that bond with his wife, but now she knew for certain his mother had raised a son damaged by her illness and his father's apathy, by abuse at both their hands. She could see a tortured boy grown into a man who, so far, had broken the cycle of his past. She didn't know the worst of it, but what she knew now was bad enough.

He returned to the kitchen and heated the plate Alex had left for him. He'd given his word to Maggie and that mattered to him. Sitting at the table with the food, he revisited the talk he'd had with Alex, and he again felt a surge of resentment that she had pushed him into it. But there was more to his resentment than what lay on the surface. During her marriage to Ricky, he had made himself available to her at a great cost to him. Only Denise seemed to understand his sacrifice, because she understood his heart. Eames had not know the full extent of what he gave up for her. He wondered if she assumed that he sat by the phone, waiting for her to call. That had never been the case, but he always dropped everything to be there for her. Maybe, if she had let him live his life outside the job, things would be different. But how different would he want it to be? His head was spinning again.

He ate what he could, covering the plate again and returning it to the refrigerator. The medicine was working, making it easier to walk, but more difficult to navigate. The spinning in his head was worse and, for the first time, he wondered about his injuries. How bad were they really? It would probably be a good idea to talk to Wrightweiler without dismissing his symptoms, to tell the doctor honestly how he was doing.

He could breathe easier now that the pain had diminished, and he laid back on the couch, fairly comfortable. Slowly, his eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

He knew that sensation, but it took his mind a moment to catch up with what his body felt. Fingers, sifting through his hair. That was it. With great effort, he forced his eyes open. With greater effort, he focused his vision. "Alex..."

"Good morning."

His eyes darted around the room. It was daylight, and he heard the happy sounds of Maggie and Tommy eating breakfast. Alex continued to gently stroke his hair. "Mike will be here soon to watch the kids while we go to the funeral home."

Funeral home...? Oh...his mother...

Alex saw the sudden cloud descend over his face. Slowly, he sat up. "I-I guess I need to get ready."

"Maggie said you were up with her in the middle of the night."

"She needed her medicine and she wanted a drink of water."

"She didn't wake you, did she?"

"No."

He struggled to his feet, waving off her help, and limped toward the bedroom. She followed him, standing near the bed as she watched him get his clothes together. "Bobby, what's wrong? Why are you upset?"

He turned from the dresser a little too quickly. Once the room settled, he looked at her. Slowly, his eyes moved from her face down over her torso to her waist and down her legs, and then they moved back up her body. By the time they met hers again, his resentment was gone, forgotten in the mists of something much more powerful: his love for her. "It's nothing. I just...I don't need help. Give me ten minutes to clean up and I'll be ready."

She hesitated for a moment before nodding and walking to the door. She turned when he called her name. "Would you mind...calling Dr. Wrightweiler? See if he can see me sometime tomorrow."

"Is something wrong?"

"I can't get my head to clear...and my knee...it's starting to give way on me."

She knew better than to suggest postponing Maggie's appointment. "Suppose I can get you in this afternoon, after Maggie's appointment? His office is in the next building."

He gave her a brief nod. "That's fine."

She left to make the call and he got ready to face the day.

* * *

As she drove to the funeral parlor, Alex kept glancing over at Bobby, who silently watched out the window. "Is everything all right?" she finally asked.

He was quiet for a moment before he finally answered, "I don't know. You tell me. You got what you wanted; I told you everything you wanted to know. How do you feel about it, Alex? Do you feel closer to me now? Do you understand me better or are you now more wary because you know what you're dealing with?"

She weighed his words against the bitterness she heard in his voice. "Do you still expect me to leave?"

He sighed. "I don't know what I expect. I...I feel...like I'm walking on quicksand right now."

She knew that she needed to reassure him and she wanted to, but she was not certain what to say or what he needed to hear from her. "How can I reassure you?" she asked.

His head was throbbing, and he rubbed his temple. "Why, Alex? Why did you want to know all that? Did you feel that threatened by my friendship with Mike?"

"Not threatened, no. But I..." She paused, searching for the right words to describe how she felt. "I felt like I didn't know you like I should."

"You needed to know that my parents beat the shit out of me when I was a kid? That sometimes, I used drugs to escape or to cope? That I had so much trouble dealing with your marriage? Where did all that get you?"

"It got me to where I am now," she said. "I was up most of the night, thinking, and I made a decision."

His gut clenched and he couldn't suppress a shudder. His head hurt worse. _Here it comes..._ "What decision?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Her hand moved between the seats and came to rest on his thigh. He made no move to pull away. Gently, she rubbed his leg and softly, she answered him. "I decided that I want to be with you forever. You really want to know what our conversation did for me? It convinced me that I made the right decision when I married you, when I gave birth to your children. Bobby, you frustrate the hell out of me sometimes. You annoy me and piss me off. But when it comes down to the wire, I can't depend on anyone in the world the way I can depend on you. Like you said, you have always been there when I needed you. Always." She took a deep breath. "I swear, I never intended to interfere with your life. But...when I felt so alone, when I...needed...someone...I knew that all I had to do was dial your number, and so I did. I used you, and part of me is glad you finally got mad about that. But a bigger part of me is more glad that you never turned me away, because I had nowhere else to go. You said I kicked you aside. I didn't. I never knew how you really felt, until it was too late. You were never my second choice, once I realized you were a real option. You were always so good at hiding your feelings. That was what came around to bite you in the ass. And once I realized you _were_ an option, you wanted no part of me because I was married to Ricky." She swallowed hard and blinked to clear her vision. "Everything you told me yesterday...made me realize what an incredible man you really are, what obstacles in your life you overcame, the circumstances you rose above. I admire you for that, and I love you more than I ever have. I didn't think that was possible, but I do."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the pain behind his eyes. She had his head spinning worse than it had been. He had not expected that, not at all. He needed to take a deep breath, but couldn't. He refocused himself by looking out the window again, grateful that she left him alone to gather himself.

When she parked outside the funeral home, her hand closed on the door handle, but when he grabbed her arm, she did not open the door. Turning toward him to see what he wanted, she was caught entirely off guard when he suddenly kissed her. Sliding her arms around him, they both relaxed in the embrace. He allowed her to break the kiss, but she did not pull away. Gently, she rested her forehead against his, trailing her thumb along his jaw. "I'm sorry I put you through that," she whispered. "But I needed to know."

He nodded, eyes still closed, but said nothing. He was done talking, at least for awhile. Tipping his head, he kissed her again.


	16. Doctors' Visits

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone!!!**

* * *

Alex noticed the wary looks the funeral director kept casting toward Bobby as they met with him in his office. Bobby, however, took no notice, distracted by his pain and the troubling dizziness that came and went in his head. He sat heavily in a chair in front of the desk and got right to business. "My mother... made everything easy for us," he said wearily.

Alex was pleased to hear him use the pronoun 'us'. As for making things easy, this was probably the only time in his life she had ever taken any sort of burden from him. Bobby withdrew an envelope from his jacket pocket and passed it across the desk. "She picked out her casket, the verse for her memory cards, the readings she wants for the Mass...everything. In fact, she discussed her memorial Mass with Father Patrick, so he knows more about it than I do. The deed for her burial plot is there as well. I'm not sure why you wanted to meet with us. She took care of everything before she died. There are no decisions left to be made."

As the director reviewed the papers, Bobby looked at Alex and gave her a brief smile. "She didn't even trust me with this," he said softly, for her ears only.

Her only reply was to reach out and close her hand over his, giving it a squeeze. Her feelings toward Frances Goren were complicated. On one hand, she realized that many of her actions had been driven by her disease and were beyond her control. She tried to be understanding of that extenuating circumstance. On the other hand, she deeply resented the insecurities Frances had fostered in her younger son. Since talking with him the day before, she had trouble getting some of the images he placed in her mind to leave. Locked in a closet, thrown down the stairs, chased with a baseball bat...those actions were unforgivable, disease or not. And yet, Bobby loved his mother and forgave her for every injustice, because she was his mother. Every injustice, that is, except for the last one. She did not think he could ever forgive anyone, not even his mother, for causing his children any harm. She knew he did not forgive himself for the accident that injured Maggie, and he could not forgive his mother for what she had done to Maggie and Tom, even if their little daughter could.

She tightened her grip on his hand, and he did not pull away. The funeral director looked up. "It seems everything is in order here. A couple of signatures and you folks can be on your way."

Once they were back in the car, Alex said, "That didn't take anywhere near as long as we thought." She looked at him. "Are you going to try to find your brother?"

He shrugged. "I really haven't thought about it. I suppose I should."

"Maggie has been wanting to meet him."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Why? Do you think he would hurt the kids?"

He shook his head. "No. He would never hurt them. Frank's not a violent man. But how do you want to handle his inconsistent appearances and disappearances? He's very charming, very likable, and very undependable. Not to mention he's a bad role model...but he tells great stories. None of them are true, but they're fun to listen to...and easy to believe. Frank's a liar, a junkie and a player, but he knows how to be charming and how to get what he wants. He always knows exactly what to say."

She allowed herself a smile. "I've seen a lot of that charm in you, too, you know."

"My father's legacy," he answered bitterly.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, Bobby. It's helped us solve more than a few cases. And I find it by measures irritating and irresistible."

He managed a small, amused smile before resting his head back and closing his eyes. She watched him with concern. "How is your head?"

"Not so good. I still have trouble...focusing and when things start getting blurry, everything spins. It's really getting old."

"Has it improved any?"

"A little but not much."

"Let's get Maggie for her appointment and then get you over to see Dr. Wrightweiler."

He squeezed her hand in reply and tried to relax.

* * *

Dr. Marisol Perez finished examining Maggie after reviewing her x-rays. "Everything looks good," she assured the little girl's parents. "The bone is in place and the swelling is nearly gone. We'll put a cast on her leg up to her knee. In three weeks, we can put a walking cast on and two weeks after that, if everything continues to look this well, the cast can come off. Any questions?"

Maggie nodded. "Can I have a red cast?"

"Of course you can, sweetheart."

"An' I can go back to school?"

Perez nodded. "You can go to school tomorrow."

When the doctor turned her attention back to Bobby and Alex, Bobby asked, "What about her pain?"

"Once the cast is on, her pain should quickly diminish. She should continue to use her crutches until we put the walking cast on, but I don't anticipate her pain continuing for much longer. She's five; she'll mend quickly."

Once they were done with the doctor and Maggie had her new red cast on, they proceeded to Wrightweiler's office. They were not kept waiting long before they were taken back to an exam room. When Wrightweiler entered the room, he smiled at Maggie. "Well, well, look who we have here in this pretty red cast."

She smiled at him. "Hi, Daddy's doctor."

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Maggie. Thank you for bringing your daddy in to see me."

"Can you make him better?"

"That is exactly what I plan to do."

He stepped up to the exam table and shook Bobby's hand and then Alex's. "I don't think I saw you this much in the hospital." He examined Bobby's eyes. "Aside from the pain, what other trouble are you having?"

"Dizziness, blurred vision, trouble concentrating, headache. And the medicine makes it worse."

"Yeah...That's a double edged sword there. It's impossible to fully judge your mental status with those pain killers, but you need them. How's your hip?"

"Sore but all right."

"And the knee?"

"Not so well. It's started buckling on me."

"How often?"

"Every time I get up. Once or twice after I start moving around."

"Use the cane and stay off it as much as you possibly can. I want more of that swelling down before I send you for an MRI." He examined Bobby's eyes more closely. "How does your head feel right now?"

"Not terrible. It hurts and I feel a little dizzy, but my vision is clear at the moment."

The doctor gave him a quick neurological exam and then went through a series of questions, glancing toward Alex for confirmation of the answers. He leaned against the exam table, pensive. "How long were you out after the accident?"

"A couple of hours."

He rubbed his chin, thinking. In the corner, Maggie watched everything taking place around her with intense interest. She got up from her chair while the doctor thought and hobbled over to her mother, who lifted her and set her down beside Bobby. She scooted closer to him and pressed into his side as he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. The doctor turned his head to look at her. "You were with Daddy when he crashed his car, weren't you, Maggie?"

"Yes. That's how my leg got hurt."

"Do you remember the crash?"

"No. But musta went to sleep because I woke up an' it was cold an' my head an' my leg hurt. The car was all crashed up, too."

"And Daddy?"

"He wouldn' wake up. So I got in the front seat with him an' pulled his coat aroun' me, so I would be warm an' I could keep him warm, too. It was snowin' out."

Wrightweiler nodded his head slowly. "And after Daddy woke up, did he seem to be okay?"

"He hurt his leg, too, an' his head was bleedin', like mine did."

"But he talked to you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes. We hadda save Wally and his sister from a car that got upside down. Daddy taked them outta the car an' I he'ped take care-a them."

He smiled. "You're a big girl. Very good. Thank you for the information, honey."

"Now are you gonna make Daddy better?"

He stepped away from the exam table and touched her cheek. "I think Daddy will get well on his own, but he's going to need a lot of rest."

Maggie looked up at her father. "I can he'p take care-a him."

"You are very good at taking care of Daddy," the doctor said, smiling.

Wrightweiler turned his attention from Maggie to her parents. "You had a serious concussion, and it's going to take time and rest to heal. I am encouraged that you have noticed some improvement. It's only been two days. Give it some more time. You should see marked improvement over the next week. If you don't notice any improvement by Friday afternoon or if you start getting worse anytime, call me and I'll send you for a CT scan, but I think you'll be all right. As for your knee, stay off it. Elevation and ice, and I want you back in two weeks as scheduled. Then we'll take a peek and see what damage has been done. If you have to walk, use the cane, but don't walk any more than you have to." He wrote on a prescription pad and handed the paper to Alex. "An anti-inflammatory and pain medicine. Take them if you need them, Bobby." He placed a hand on Maggie's head. "It was a pleasure to see you again, Maggie. Take good care of your daddy."

She returned the doctor's smile. "I will!"

He laughed, then said, "Two weeks, but call me if something worries you. You have my numbers."

Alex gave him a nod as she slipped the prescription into her pocket. "Thank you, Dr. Wrightweiler."

He looked at Bobby and cautioned, "Rest."

Bobby acknowledged him with a brief incline of his head, and Wrightweiler left the room.

* * *

Once at home, Bobby took his medicine, at his wife's insistence, and laid down on the couch. Mike had taken Tommy and Molly to his place to play with Sean, so Alex took advantage of the break to start dinner. Deciding on a simple meal, she put a large pot of water on to boil and took out a package of macaroni elbows. She set a carton of Velveeta cheese on the counter. Maggie and Tom loved macaroni in any form, and macaroni and cheese ranked right up there with spaghetti.

After her mother went into the kitchen, Maggie hobbled to the couch and set down her crutches. Bobby readjusted his position and settled her against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. He retrieved the remote and put cartoons on for her to watch. "The doctor said I can go to school t'morrow," she said casually as she settled snuggled into him.

"Yes, as long as you're careful about your leg."

"Will you be okay when I'm in school?"

"I'll be fine. I'll stay right here and wait for you to come home."

"An' you'll let Tommy and Molly go to Grampa's so you can rest?"

"Yes. Mommy will take them before she goes to work. You'll stay here with me and someone will come by to take you to school when it's time."

She sighed and turned her attention to the television. "That sounds good."

He smiled and kissed her head, content to hold her and watch cartoons with her.

When Alex stepped out of the kitchen to check on them, they were both asleep. Maggie had turned toward Bobby and her hand was buried in his hair.


	17. Burning Over A Slow Fire

Alex slowly eased herself into the easy chair in the living room and took a sip from her glass of wine. Mike had just left after helping her get the kids to bed. She was glad Bobby had eaten some dinner and now he was settled in bed, sleeping. Maggie was excited about going back to school the next day and Tommy seemed to finally understand that Gramma was not directly responsible for the injuries to his sister and father. She finally had a moment to sit and unwind. It had been a busy, draining day and she was glad it was over.

After a half hour of mindless television and two glasses of wine, she felt relaxed enough to go to bed. Locking the place up, she checked on Maggie and Tom, then went into the bedroom. Bobby was on his side, sleeping soundly. It was good to see him sleep so well, but she knew it wasn't a natural, restful sleep. He never slept that well. The combination of his physical injuries and the strong painkillers he was taking were responsible for his sleep.

She changed into sleep pants and a sleeveless shirt and slipped into bed, pressing her body up to his and draping her arm around him. Her breath feathered across the back of his neck and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Bobby tossed restlessly, struggling away from a nightmare, or a memory; sometimes he couldn't tell the difference. The talk he'd had with Alex stirred up a lot in his head, and he expected many nights of deeply disturbed sleep before his mind settled itself once again. The burning pain in his hip and knee drove the final vestiges of sleep from him. He settled from his nightmare and the pain slowly abated, but sleep was now very far away. He looked at the clock. Three a.m. _Wonderful._ Slowly, reluctantly, he moved away from his sleeping wife and limped to the bathroom.

When he came out, he felt dizzy again, but instead of returning to the bed, he sat in the chair by the window and looked out into the street. The streetlights drove back the darkness, preventing the night from completely taking hold. It was never completely dark in the city, but he knew darkness. He remembered the basement of the house his parents rented from the time he was eight until a couple of years after his father left...the closets his mother would lock him in to protect him from 'them'...the dark dreams that seemed to have always been there, mocking the light.

Absently, he counted the cars that drove by, distracting himself from the pain that seared his body, cutting through his knee and hip like a hot knife through butter, distracting him from distant memories of a painful past. His head throbbed, but the spinning abated some.

He lost track of time, wandering around inside his mind, seeking a deeper distraction. Another car drove by. _Seventeen._ He heard Molly make little sounds as she began to move around in her crib. _Eighteen._ His mind spun in a slow circle. _Molly...Tom and Maggie...Mom..._

His gut clenched and he suddenly felt nauseous. _Gone...She's gone..._ How was he supposed to feel about that? _Nineteen._ He searched his logical mind for the right answer. Grief, of course. He should feel grief. And he did, so that was good. But...relief? Was that an appropriate response to losing a parent? No, he didn't think so. _Twenty._

As he felt the burden his mother's life had placed on his lift, a heavier weight came to rest on his broad shoulders. Grief and relief. Good and bad. Right and wrong. Positive and negative. Life and death. Light and darkness. _Alex...and Mom..._

He hadn't noticed the change in his breathing. A soft sound rumbled through his chest and escaped undetected. His hands trembled. Grief advanced onto a narrow bridge somewhere deep in the emotional center of his brain. Relief met it halfway. There was not enough room for either to pass, so one would have to allow the other to dominate, but neither would yield. It was a stalemate and only bad could come of the battle that ensued.

_Twenty-six._ He wasn't aware that he had continued to count the cars. The silence from the crib told him Molly had settled back to sleep. _Right and wrong._ Which was stronger, which more cunning? Which held the ability to dominate since neither wanted to coexist?

He groaned, and this time, the sound registered. He felt its rumble in his chest and tried to swallow it, but it was too much and it pushed past his efforts. He couldn't identify the source of his pain. Emotional or physical? Both, maybe? Either way, though, it was pain, a deep, overwhelming pain of both body and spirit. He was suffering. _Twenty-nine._

A pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders, the grip tightening as her fingers pressed into the knotted muscles of his shoulders and her thumbs burrowed into the band of steel at the base of his neck. Reflexively, his head tipped forward and the pressure from her hands increased. The pounding throb in his skull slowly began to ease and another soft sound slipped past his lips, mocking his failed attempt at control.

Soft lips gently teased the back of his neck and he shuddered. They burned a slow path to his left ear. Warm and moist, her tongue dipped into the hollow behind his earlobe, and more of the pounding headache slid away with his tension. What remained was a dull ache that lingered near the bruised laceration on the side of his head.

Her tongue made a slow circle of his ear and his head tipped to the right, allowing her easy access to the side of his neck. She took advantage of the movement and her mouth nipped and sucked its way from ear to shoulder and back.

He could have stopped her at any time, but he didn't. Her erotic ministrations brought his internal struggle to a screeching halt, placing it on hold for the moment. Her teeth nipped his earlobe as her lips drew it into her mouth and she sucked at it, continuing to tease it with her tongue. He shifted as she continued to heat his body from its center. The electric charge that connected her mouth to the deepest parts of his body glowed hot and he suddenly turned to the right, away from her. Spinning from the chair, he grabbed her, drawing her against his battered body as his mouth sought hers.

He kissed her deeply, pulling her against him as he slowly backed across the room. His fingers slipped into the waistband of her pants and pushed them down over her hips. When the back of his legs hit the bed, he brought his hands up to splay over her ribcage. Moments later, her shirt fell to the floor, followed by her pants and his.

He guided her with him onto the bed, kissing, fondling, stroking. Her tongue danced with his and his thinking mind shut down entirely. He turned himself over to the heat of passion that seared his body as her leg slid over him and her body gently came to rest on top of his. When she settled onto him, the lump of molten lava deep in the center of his body erupted to consume him.

She continued to move on him slowly, watching for any sign of discomfort from him. He was beyond pain. He burned only with a need for her. When his hips jerked, she began moving faster, building speed slowly.

He was consumed by the fire she had created, only peripherally aware of her climax as he built to his own. When release finally came, it was shattering. The physical and emotional tension he'd been suffering over the past few days consolidated and added to the intensity of his climax. A white light exploded behind his eyes and his body shuddered beneath hers. He groaned deeply and when his body finally relaxed, he slipped almost immediately into a deep, restful sleep.

Alex watched as his eyes slid closed and his breathing slowed and deepened. She realized with a pang of guilt that he'd desperately needed what she had just given him: irrefutable proof that she still wanted and needed him, that she still loved him deeply with her body as well as her heart. Easing herself down beside him, she nestled into his body and returned to sleep.

* * *

When the alarm sounded, she leaned over him to turn it off. She softly kissed him before sliding from the bed and crossing the room to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, she stood under the stream of hot water and let her mind wander as she washed. With reluctance, she finished her shower, toweled off and returned to the bedroom to dress.

After pulling on her underwear and a pair of pants, she went to the crib. Molly waved her arms and kicked her feet when her mother entered her line of vision. With a smile, Alex lifted the baby from her crib, changed her and sat in the rocker to feed her.

After Molly ate, Alex settled her back in the crib and finished dressing. Then she crossed the hall to get Tommy up. She sat on the edge of his bed and smoothed his unruly curls back off his forehead. He had his father's hair with her coloring. His eyes popped open, amber in color and bright with joy. "Mama!"

"Good morning, little man."

He looked around the room. "Maga?"

Maggie was usually with her when she woke him up. "Maggie is still sleeping."

He placed his finger on his lips. "Shhh."

Alex laughed and kissed his head. "Let's get you ready to go to Grandpa's."

"Yay!" He bounced out of bed. "Gapa!"

Alex helped him get dressed then sat him in his high chair with a bowl of cereal and went down the hall to check on Maggie. She was surprised to find her sitting up in her bed with a book. When the door opened, Maggie turned her head toward the door and smiled. "Good mornin', Mommy."

Alex came into the room and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "I thought you were still sleeping."

"No. My leg hurt and waked me up."

"Why didn't you come to get me?"

"It doesn' hurt that bad an' I didn' wanna wake Daddy. He needs to rest, 'member?"

Alex gently stroked the little girl's dark hair. "Don't you think it would upset Daddy to know you were in pain and didn't come in to get one of us?"

"We won' tell him that."

Alex smiled. "Only if you promise to come to get me from now on when your leg hurts or you need something."

"Okay, Mommy. I promise."

"Do you want breakfast?"

"Is Tommy up?"

"Yes. He's eating his cereal."

She nodded. "I will eat with him."

Setting her book aside, Maggie got up and grabbed her crutches. She followed her mother to the dining room and climbed up onto the chair closest to her brother, who kicked his legs excitedly. "Maga!"

"G'mornin', Tommy!"

Alex set a bowl of cereal in front of Maggie and went to the bedroom. She watched Bobby sleep for a moment, then packed Molly's diaper bag. She kissed Bobby softly, without waking him, and lifted Molly from the crib. Closing the door quietly, she carried the baby into the living room. "Maggie, you'll have to go in my room when I leave. Daddy is still asleep."

"Okay, Mommy. Are you gonna come to get me for school?"

"It will be either me or Uncle Mike."

"At ten-thirty, right?"

Alex smiled. "Right. Are you done eating?"

"Omos'."

Half an hour later, after settling Maggie in the bed beside Bobby with a portable DVD and several movies she liked, Alex left with the two little ones.

Maggie settled back into the pillows close to Bobby's back and chose a movie, making sure the volume was low enough not to wake him.

* * *

At quarter after ten, Alex opened the bedroom door and looked into the room. Maggie was asleep, leaning against Bobby with her hand in his hair, and that made her smile. She debated whether or not to just keep the little girl home for the rest of the week. She was about to leave the room when Maggie's head popped up. "Mommy?"

"You can go back to sleep, Maggie."

"But I wanna go to school. I miss my friens and my teacher. I gotta go to school, Mommy. I'll be okay."

Alex smiled and walked to the bed. She looked down at Bobby and gently stroked his cheek. He groaned softly and opened his eyes, blinking and rolling onto his back. Maggie draped herself over his chest in a hug. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed as she lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Do you feel better, Daddy?"

He nodded. "I do."

She rested her head back on his chest and he kissed her then shifted his gaze back to Alex. He gave her half a smile but his eyes glowed and that made her face light up when she returned his smile. She rested her hand on Maggie's back. "Come on, honey. Let's get you dressed. We have to get going."

Maggie gave Bobby another squeeze and slid off the bed. She grabbed her crutches and hobbled from the room. Alex leaned down to give Bobby a quick kiss, but when he weaved his fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss, she lingered.

When she finally found the willpower to withdraw, her knees were weak and her breath was slow to return, making her dizzy. She did not pull her gaze from his until Maggie returned to the room, dressed in the clothes Alex had set out for her that morning. "I'm ready, Mommy!"

She entered the room and approached the bed. Bobby smiled at her as he reached out and unbuttoned her shirt, readjusting it on her shoulders and buttoning it straight. Then he tugged her sweater and ran his hand over her hair. "Don't forget to brush your hair and your teeth."

She smiled back at him. "I al'ays 'member." She kissed him. "Don' freget to rest. You needa get better."

"Promise."

She beamed at him and left the room as Alex leaned down for another kiss, this one brief and affectionate. She crossed the room, turning in the doorway to look back. He'd folded his arms behind his head and was watching her. She felt the color rise to her cheeks at the heat she saw in his eyes, and it warmed her to see the return of the passion that had been missing from him since just before Molly was born. A wave of hot desire flashed through her body as her mind recalled their early morning encounter. She gave him a warm smile, letting her gaze linger on his bare chest. Moistening dry lips, she turned and left the room while she still could. It blew her mind what he could do to her with one look. He could communicate more passion and desire with his eyes than any man she'd ever known. One hot, dark look from him, stormy with passion and roiling with desire, could make her as weak at the knees and as breathless as one of his kisses. Thank God he turned that off when they were working. She had missed that passion, but she never realized how _much_ she'd missed it until it returned.

Bobby scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and smiled. She had done him more good that morning than Richard Wrightweiler had ever done with his surgeon's scalpel and patient bedside manner. He let his mind return to the early hours of the day, before the sun rose and the children woke. Turning onto his side, he closed his eyes and got lost in the memory.

He heard the door open, drawing him out of his head, and he opened his eyes as Maggie came into his line of vision. He smiled at her. She set aside her crutches so she could hug him, and she kissed his cheek. "We're leavin' now, Daddy. Don' freget what the doctor telled you."

He smiled and kissed her nose. "I won't. You have fun at school."

"I will!"

Alex had followed her. "Come on, Maggie. You'll be late."

"I'm comin', Mommy."

Bobby watched as Maggie scurried from the room on her crutches, then he looked at Alex. Her smile melted him. She crossed the room toward him as she said, "I left lunch in the refrigerator for you. You need to eat, and take your medicine if you have to. We'll see you tonight."

As she approached, he rolled onto his back, his eyes locked on hers. She reached toward him, fingering a soft curl before letting her fingertips stroke the side of his face. When he closed his eyes, she leaned down and kissed him.

His hand slid into her hair, holding her head in place as his mouth moved against hers. When his tongue teased her lips, they parted and she pressed closer, lost in the kiss. His other hand, splayed over her ribcage, moved up beneath her arm and his thumb brushed over the fabric that covered her nipple. She moaned softly and closed her lips around his tongue, sucking gently. The world around them spun and swirled...until... "Mommy! C'mon! You can kiss Daddy later! I gotta gets to school!"

Alex drew back. Two pairs of heated eyes bore into each other and she caressed his lips with her thumb. His tongue darted out and she laughed. "Tonight," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

He nodded and kissed her thumb. Her fingers stroked his cheek and she stepped away. She could feel his eyes on her as she crossed the room and she dared a look back. She did a poor job of suppressing the tremor that assaulted her muscles, weakening her knees and flipping her heart in her ribcage. She darted out the door as Maggie called her again.

As she drove to the school, Alex let her mind rewind and she wondered what had caused the sudden return of his passion. Not that it mattered, but she was very curious. Something had happened in that wonderfully complex mind of his that allowed him to let go of whatever it was that had mired him in dark thoughts and darker emotions. Something, somewhere along the way since his mother's death, had set him free of his melancholy. What it was, though, she had no idea, and she had an odd feeling he didn't know either.


	18. A Night Alone

**A/N: This chapter should probably have an 'M' rating. Enjoy. And I want to add a thank you for the editing help in this chapter. You know who you are, my friend.  
**

* * *

Alex slipped into the apartment after work, and the silence bombarded her. _No children, _she remembered, and she missed them. She'd debated her decision to leave them overnight with her sister, but knew in her heart it would be good for them. They played endless games with Jake, and giggled and slept in sleeping bags, and Jake was very protective of his little cousins. They would be fine.

Alex wanted an uninterrupted night alone with her husband, so she could concentrate on him. She also needed to talk to Bobby about taking the kids to his mother's funeral on Saturday morning. They needed to decide if they should take the kids to all or part of the services, or get a sitter. She suspected he would have definite opinions on the subject. Alex glanced at her sleeping partner. His prescription bottle was on its side on the coffee table alongside a mostly empty glass of water and a plate with half a sandwich on it. After hanging her coat by the door, she took the plate and the glass into the kitchen and brought back fresh water.

At first she thought, with relief, that he was resting comfortably – but she should have known better. She heard him groan as she returned to the living room, and she watched as he shifted restlessly, trying to escape his pain, or his dreams, or both. His breathing was staggered, almost labored, and she knew he wasn't sleeping well. She sat on the edge of the couch beside him and laid her hand on his back. She could feel the tension in his muscles through the fabric of his damp, sweaty t-shirt. Rising onto her knee, she pressed her fingers firmly into his taut muscles and began working them, using small circular motions. Beginning at his shoulders, she worked her way down his back to his waist and then back to his shoulders. Gradually, his muscles relaxed and his breathing evened out and settled.

He stirred and murmured her name. She leaned forward and looked into his face. He half-smiled, but his eyes were sleepy and unfocused.

"Hi," he whispered.

She returned his smile and moved closer to give him a kiss. "Hi. How do you feel?"

"Good." Slowly, he rolled onto his back. He looked around, noticing the missing coats by the door. His face clouded with concern. "The kids...?"

"They're at Reggie's for the night."

"Why?"

Panic replaced the fog in his brain. Why wouldn't she bring the children home? He pushed himself onto his elbows. She read his anxiety and gently rubbed his chest. "It's okay. I just wanted to spend the night alone, just you and me."

"Why?" he repeated.

His mind really was cloudy. In response, she leaned over and brushed her lips over his. "Let's go to bed," she whispered against his mouth.

He pulled her back to him. "Comfortable here," he murmured.

She smiled. "I'll make you _really_ comfortable there."

"Promise?"

She pressed her lips more firmly against his, teasing him with her tongue as she played with the waistband of his sweats. When she rubbed her hand over him, he caught his breath and groaned, arching into her hand. "Come on," she coaxed, moving away from him.

He sat up and the room tilted and spun. He waited for it to settle. It took two attempts to get his knee to support his weight, so when he reached the bedroom door, his eyes were glazed, reflecting his pain, his skin moist from the exertion.

"Al-Alex?" She was nowhere in sight.

"I'll be right out," she promised from the direction of the closet.

The room started spinning again and his knee burned as he limped to the bed. With relief, he dropped on to the welcoming mattress. Slowly, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. He laid back and closed his eyes, still dizzy and resenting it and the medicine that caused it.

His breathing slowly calmed as the pain faded and the vertigo eased. He couldn't relax and he found himself longing for Alex's fingers and the magic they could perform on his tight muscles. His body thrummed with arousal as his mind continued to wander over what else her beautiful fingers could do to him. He felt much better about their relationship now, although he still resented being forced into discussing things he preferred to keep private. But he was afraid that if he had remained stubborn, refusing to talk to her once again, he would have lost her, once and for all. If he lost her – he would have lost everything.

In the closet, Alex stripped out of her clothes and dug in the back for a small bag she had hanging on a hook in the far corner. Opening it, she pulled out a black lace teddy she bought after Molly was born. It was something she bought to feel attractive again after bearing another baby. Now she just wanted to reassure him, to let him know that they were okay and she still wanted him as much as she ever did. She also needed to let him know she forgave him, and words were often inadequate to him. She stepped into a pair of black heels that she knew he loved, and walked out of her hiding place.

When her cool hands began to caress his warm skin, he groaned softly. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and he stared at her, stunned. He tipped his head to the right, and his mouth moved, but no words came out. In the end, all he could only stare mutely and blink.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He didn't answer. He couldn't think, but his body spoke for him. Reaching out, he fingered the lace where it gathered at her waist. His hand moved up to cup a full, firm breast, teasing her nipple and wishing he had the use of both hands. He stretched to give the same attention to her other breast. When she closed her eyes, he trailed his fingers in a line away from the fullness of her chest, over her belly and down between her legs. With a gasp, she moved closer.

He murmured her name as he abandoned his fondling long enough to pull her down on top of him. He rolled onto his side, pinning her by draping his leg over hers, and he resumed his caressing. He placed tender kisses along her jaw to her ear, which he nipped and sucked.

She groaned and began to thrash, briefly wondering when she'd lost the upper hand. After that, a warm buzzing filled her head as her hips took on a life of their own, thrusting against his hand. She turned and pushed her tongue against his mouth, moaning when he sucked it past his lips. Her hand caressed his stomach, roaming over warm skin, pushing past his waistband. There she found his solid length; she gripped him firmly and began to stroke, regaining some control.

Her hand moved rhythmically from base to tip and down again, setting his body on fire. His breath hitched as his pulse throbbed. The pressure spiraled, out of control, and he turned suddenly, desperate to be inside her. When he moved, spasms of pain seized his hip and knee, but he continued, succumbing to the more urgent demands of his body.

Alex molded her hands to his chest, shoved him onto the bed and knelt above him. She yanked his pants over his hips, straddled him and smiled as she settled against him. He gasped, squeezed his eyes shut and fell back against the bed. Her small hand found his thick member and she pressed it on her wet center. When she wriggled her hips against it, he groaned -- but then she stopped moving.

When he covered her small hand with his large one to guide him to her center, her hips jerked and pulled away. He groaned and she moved again, getting closer, teasing and tempting them both. He gripped her left hip, but she refused to move closer. She was not ready to give him what he wanted just yet.

Watching her slender fingers curl around his sex, he wanted to pull her hand away and bury himself deep into her warm body, but he'd wait, he'd let her set the pace. He grinned and pressed his thumb into the soft skin where her leg met her hip, knowing that this ticklish spot drove her crazy.

Her eyes widened. "Don't you dare," she warned.

He wriggled his eyebrows and thrust into her warm palm. She lowered her eyebrows stubbornly and he pressed his thumb more firmly into her. She started to move away from his hand, but he gripped her firmly and caressed her. She squealed and struggled half-heartedly, but his strength held her. Her squirming body slid teasingly against his erection and the sweet noises she made fed his need for her.

She fell on him and he embraced her, kissing her face tenderly. "Please," he whispered.

"Please, what?" she purred.

"Please…" And he reached between them and covered her hand with his. "I want you." His voice was heavy with desire.

Their eyes connected and the need in his ignited the passion in her blood; she lifted her hips and let him guide his rigid member into her surging heat. She eased down on him, never taking her eyes off his, but biting her lip as her body stretched and trembled to accommodate his size. She felt his hand curl around her hip, gently encouraging, and she braced herself before thrusting her hips and filling her core with the shattering pleasure of his flesh. She lost control, shouted his name before sinking her teeth in his shoulder,

Bobby lost himself in the exquisite feelings that surrounded him, deeply embedded in his wife's welcoming heat. And when he thought he could take no more, she started to move, making love to him, knowing what he needed. Her fingers massaged and soothed him while her hips rocked back and forth, slowly at first, and then increasing speed and intensity. They both were panting and kissing, and she was wet and wild and he was hot and hard and about to explode and she was nearly there when she suddenly gripped his shoulders and came, crying out, _Oh mygodBobby…. _

With a sudden surge of strength he pushed his hips and plunged into her, impossibly hard and deep, three times, enough to make her shout again, and cause his world to turn to flame and the sweet release of a strong climax.

Breathing hard, she lay on top of him as her body calmed. She felt his heart settle from the wild pounding that accompanied his release to its normal solid thrumming. Wriggling playfully, she slid off him and nestled into his side. Lightly, she stroked his chest. He sighed softly. "Sleepy?" she asked,

"Mmn-hmn," he answered.

"Can we talk for a minute before you go to sleep?"

"Mmn-hmn," he repeated.

"About the funeral."

He shifted and she felt the tension crawl back into his muscles. "You don't want to go," he said.

"Calm down," she cooed, forcing herself to be patient. Teasing the hair on his chest made it easier for her not to snap at him. "Of course I'm going to go. But I'm not sure it's the best thing for the kids to be there."

"Okay. You explain that to Maggie."

He had a point. Their oldest would insist on attending, wanting to tell Gramma good-bye and needing to be with her father. She was still too young to understand what had happened, but she knew that Gramma wasn't coming back. Alex chewed on her lower lip while he watched her. "Do you really think a funeral Mass and graveside ceremony will be too much for her, Alex?" he asked. "Because...I don't. I think she'll be fine. She was there when Mom died...and she handled it better than I did. Tommy's too young to know what's going on, and I think he'll be okay, too. I don't think he should go to the funeral home tomorrow night, but the Mass on Saturday...I think that'll be okay. Besides, anyone we trust with them will be at the funeral."

He was more coherent than he'd been earlier, she noticed. She continued trailing her fingers over his chest. She kissed his jaw. "That makes sense. All right. We'll bring them with us. As for tomorrow night...an open casket wake..." She shook her head. "I don't think Maggie should go, either. Carolyn has already agreed to watch all three of them so Mike and I can go along with you."

He nodded, agreeing. "That's fine"

_That went well,_ she mused. She wasn't sure the next subject would, though. "Are you going to try to find Frank?"

He folded his left arm behind his head and studied the ceiling. She nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder and settled her leg on his, stroking his stomach. "Bobby," she said softly, trying to sound reasonable. "You have to at least try. You have to let him know, and then it will be on him whether he shows up or not. Take that much off yourself."

"I don't have to try," he murmured.

She misunderstood him for a moment, then she raised her head to look at his face. "You know where he is."

"I know where he was two months ago. He's probably still there."

She had always left him alone about his relationship with his brother. It was what it was and she knew he was not inclined to mess with it. She also understood his reluctance to bring him into the sphere of their lives. She wasn't sure she wanted their children exposed to him, either. But if he was going to turn up, she would be certain to lay down the law with him. What went on between him and Bobby was one thing. What went on between him and the children, if anything, was something else entirely.

"Do you have a number for him?"

Slowly, he nodded. "In the top drawer of my desk."

She slid out of the bed and he watched her cross the room to the desk. She returned with the slip of paper on which he'd written Frank's number. He reached out and bypassed the paper, running his fingers over her waist and down along her bare hip and thigh. She stepped back, but she was smiling. Thrusting the paper into his hand, she said, "Call your brother."

He watched her grab her robe and slip into it. Thick and warm, she called it her 'comfort' robe. "I'll be right back."

She wanted to give him privacy for the call, but she had also seen the glaze of pain in his eyes, felt the heat in his knee as the inflammation flared again. So while he called Frank, she went into the kitchen for a glass of water, retrieving both of his prescription bottles before she returned to the bedroom.

Bobby sat up, looked at the number in his hands and blinked his eyes. It took a minute for his vision to clear enough for him to make out the numbers. He was not improving as quickly as he wanted to, dammit. Halfway through dialing, the number blurred again and he had to start over. Swearing, he slammed the phone in its cradle as Alex came back into the room. Concerned, she asked, "What did Frank say?"

Balling the paper, he threw it on the floor and the phone followed it. Alex stopped, watching him lay back and turn onto his side. She walked to the bedside, set the medicine and the glass on the table and sat beside him, stroking his hair. "What is it?" she asked.

He sighed, curling into her and bringing his head to rest on her thigh. "I couldn't make out the number," he answered. "My vision...won't clear long enough...for me to make the call."

"Is this...new?" she asked, trying to swallow her fear.

He shook his head. "No."

"You didn't say anything to the doctor about it."

"It'll get better. I'm not seeing double any more...most of the time. It's improving."

She kissed his temple. "I'll dial for you."

When he didn't argue, she moved and he rolled onto his back. Handing him the receiver, she dialed the number and crossed the room to put the paper back in his desk drawer. She sat in the chair at the desk and watched him talk to his brother.

Bobby knew when Frank answered that he was high, and he deliberated hanging up without saying anything. But with Alex sitting there watching him, he knew he had to make an attempt. "Hey, it's me."

"Bobby! What have you been up to?"

"I'm not calling to catch up, Frank. I...I have to tell you...Mom...Mom died Sunday night."

The silence on the other end was not reassuring. He heard the quiet rasp of a lighter. _Shit_. "Frank?"

"I heard you, little brother."

"The funeral...is Saturday, at the church near Carmel Ridge."

"So you called me before you buried her."

Bobby's jaw clenched and his hand tightened over the receiver. "You can be there or not. It's up to you. But you should know...she missed you every day until the day she died."

He hung up the phone and reached out to set it on the nightstand, missing it and knocking over the water glass. "Aw, fuck!"

Alex crossed the room, placing a hand on his arm as she righted the glass and picked up the phone. The call had not gone well; she could tell. He rolled onto his back and she cleaned up the water, refilling the glass.

She didn't say a word as he gathered her into his arms, letting him pull her down beside him. Slipping under the blankets, she nestled close and he pressed his head against her chest. Stroking his hair, she didn't fuss about the medicine. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close as she rubbed his back and kissed his head.

Gradually, his hold loosened and his breathing became deep and regular. She wondered if Frank would show up on Saturday, and if he did, how Bobby would handle it. A small part of her hoped Frank would make an appearance to say good-bye to his mother, but the bigger part of her hoped the elder brother would stay away and spare his younger brother the pain.


	19. An Unexpected Visitor

Alex changed into sleep pants and a matching sleeveless shirt, stopping by the bed to stroke Bobby's hair. He didn't move. She kissed his forehead and checked on Molly in her crib before leaving the room.

She made her rounds of the apartment, ensuring the place was locked up, and then she checked on Maggie and Tommy in their beds. Everything was secure and both children were sleeping peacefully. As she crossed the hallway from Tom's room to the bedroom she shared with Bobby, she heard a knock at the front door.

On her way across the living room, she looked at the time. Almost eleven o'clock. Who could possibly be at the door at this hour? When she looked through the peephole, she saw the familiar face of a man she'd never met and she let out a low sigh. Frances Goren had given birth to two handsome sons. One of them slept in the bedroom down the hall; the other now stood outside their apartment.

She opened the door and glared at the man who shuffled in the hallway. Frank's hands were buried in his pockets and he shifted from one foot to the other in a manner she found all too familiar. He looked up, expecting to see his brother. It was clear that he had not expected a woman to answer the door.

Confused, he looked around, checking the number on the door of the apartment. "Uhm, I'm sorry. I must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for my brother."

As tempted as she was to send Frank on his way, her conscience would not allow anger and resentment to get the better of her. Whatever she thought of him, he became family when she married his brother. "You have the right apartment," she replied, her voice cold. "Your brother...was badly injured in a car accident the night your mother died. He's asleep right now."

He scanned her slowly, and the look in his eyes made her uncomfortable. She'd seen it too often when she worked vice. A similar look from her husband was a very welcome invitation, something that set her body on fire, but from his brother, well, it was just creepy, and it sent a cold chill through her veins. When he smiled, she could see traces of Bobby in him, and that unsettled her even more.

"You're his nurse?" he asked in a tone she didn't appreciate.

Hired help was fair game. "No, I am not his nurse, Frank. I live here."

Frank laughed to himself: _So, little brother has a girlfriend._ "I'm at a distinct disadvantage, then, gorgeous. You know me, but I have no idea who you are."

Her back stiffened. She did not like the seductive tone of Frank's voice or the roguish gleam in his eyes. She knew that Bobby had not told Frank about her and the children, and she still was not sure how she felt about it. She couldn't help the surge of near-resentment that welled up in her as Frank placed his hand on the door frame near her head. He gave her a charming smile, convinced he had a shot with her. "You certainly are beautiful," he remarked. "My brother always had good taste in women."

Bobby had never explained his decision to her. When she tried to discuss Frank with him, he would change the subject or shut down on her. Often, she wondered what went on in his head when she brought up Frank's name. Surely he did not present a threat to her or the children. Perhaps it was more about punishing Frank by excluding him. That made more sense to her. Whatever his reasoning, she was now confronted with her brother-in-law and the decision about what to tell him was hers.

"Why don't you let me in," he pressed, turning up the charm. "We can have a nice talk and see where it leads."

_You have __**got**__ to be kidding me_, Alex thought. Her brow furrowed as she glared at him, and his smile faded a little, replaced with confusion. Obviously, he wasn't used to having his advances spurned. Her eyes narrowed. "Back off, buddy," she warned. "I'm not interested."

"I see. Do you think my brother can give you a better time than I can? Come on, baby. Let your hair down a bit. I'll prove to you how much better I am at this than he is."

"First of all, _never_ call me baby again. And second of all, I _know_ your brother can show me a better time. That's why I married him."

Stunned, Frank stared at her. Girlfriend, he expected, but wife? He could not wrap his mind around his quirky little brother settled in a marriage. "W-Wife?" he managed. "Since when?"

"Since two years ago, in September."

"Wife?" he repeated. "He never told me he was married."

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe he felt a need to protect his family from you."

Understanding dawned and Frank laughed. "Well, I see he's told you about me."

She was not amused, and she stood in the doorway, arms folded over her chest. Frank's laughter died as he got the impression this was not a woman to be trifled with. "Look, I was kind of counting on crashing on his couch..."

She shook her head. "No. That's not gonna happen."

"I won't bother you if that's what you're worried about..."

"It's not. You won't bother me. But, like I told you, Bobby is badly injured, and he's not up to dealing with you at the moment. He doesn't need the stress of you being here. And I don't know you well enough to trust you around my children."

"Children? Bobby's children?"

His face became unreadable, and that annoyed her. "Yes, Bobby's children."

"Really? He has kids? Uhm, boys? Girls?"

"One son and two daughters."

"Wow...I don't suppose one of 'em's named Frank, huh?"

"That would be a very safe bet."

"How old are they?"

"The two oldest are five and two, and the baby is two months." Her voice tightened with barely restrained anger. "I will not allow you to disrupt my family or to hurt Bobby again. You have a choice to make, Frank, if you want to be a part of our family. You have to prove yourself to me before I let you near my children. Bobby can make his own decisions, but if you do anything to cause him any grief, I swear you will live to regret that. Your mother's funeral is tomorrow. Show or don't show – it's your decision--but God help you if you do anything to disrespect her."

She stepped back and closed the door, leaving him standing in the hallway. Too upset to relax and unwilling to wake Bobby, she turned on the television, sat down and began to flip through the channels.

* * *

Bobby turned over in the bed, seeking his wife's warmth and comfort. When he rolled into empty air, he woke fully. He looked at the alarm clock, squinting to force the numbers into focus. 12:47. Where was Alex?

Slowly, he sat up, and the room tilted only for a moment. He got out of bed and grabbed his cane. He knew better than to try walking without it. He could handle it if he was careful, but Alex had no tolerance for willful insubordination of Dr. Wrightweiler's orders. He limped from the room.

When he came into the living room, she looked away from the television. "Hey, baby. What are you doing up?"

"I...missed you. Why are you still up?"

"I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you."

He crossed the room and sat beside her. Alex didn't usually have trouble sleeping. "What's wrong?"

She shifted her position, leaning against one arm of the long couch. She drew him to her into a semi-reclining position, settling his head just below her breasts. He slid his arm around her back, snuggling into her, and he sighed softly, content. With one hand, she played with his hair while she rubbed his back with the other. "What's wrong?" he repeated, his voice barely audible.

She hesitated before saying, "We had a visitor."

"This late?"

"Yeah, well, he's not exactly know for his consideration of others."

He digested that statement, along with her tone of voice, and forced himself to sit up. "Who was it?"

"It was Frank. He was looking to crash on your couch."

He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his hand against the back of his neck. "Why didn't you get me up?"

"Because you need to rest and recover. Tomorrow will be a difficult enough day."

"You should have woken me up."

"Don't worry. I handled him."

"Handled him? Wh-what did he do?"

"He didn't do anything or you would have been woken by an ambulance."

He had no doubt of that, but he wasn't in the mood to be amused. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that until he proves himself, he is not welcome around the children. Whatever you decide about your relationship with him is between you and him, but the children...no. He has to earn a place in this family."

He mulled over her words, not disagreeing with her. "Earn a place..." he muttered. "You would consider giving him a chance?"

She didn't answer immediately, until he looked at her. "He's your brother. Don't you think he should have one?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. He's unreliable, popping in and out of my life, gone for years at a stretch. The kids don't need that kind of instability, especially if they like him, which they will. Frank can charm a snake from its hole if he sets his mind to it."

She gave him a crooked smile. "Well, this is one snake he failed to charm."

The look on his face changed from annoyance to anger and he looked away. Memories of high school floated through Bobby's head, of the girls he'd dated that his brother had charmed into his own bed. He shifted uncomfortably. "What did he...say?"

"It's not important..."

He jerked his head around. "I need to know, Alex."

"He was just flirting, trying to convince me he could show me a good time. When I told him I was your wife, he backed off." She noticed the increase in his breathing and reached out to rub his shoulder. "I can handle your brother, Bobby. He's pissing in the wind. You are the one I love."

His only answer was a brief nod. He leaned back and tipped his head against the cushions. "Is he going to be at the funeral tomorrow?"

"I don't know, but I warned him not to disgrace your mother if he does show up."

He closed his eyes and struggled with the unresolved emotions churning in his gut. Frank's interest in his life revolved around what he could get from him and no more. He was particularly interested in the girls he dated, because his favorite game was to see how many of them he could charm away from his little brother. Bobby had gotten, and given, more than one black eye over it. Frank was often successful, and those were the girls Bobby never welcomed back. There were a few who remained loyal to him under the onslaught of Frank's charm, and to this day, they remained within the few happy memories he had of his childhood. It wasn't until he joined that Army and got away from Frank, who had already begun his descent into a dark world of drugs and addiction, that he came into his own as a lover. Vowing never to be like Frank or their father, he had never tried to charm a woman involved with another man. It was one reason why Alex had become off limits to him when she married Ricky. He had his principles and, for him, they were rooted in a deeply disturbed upbringing. His moral ethics distanced himself from the men he had as role models. _Never be like them. Never be one of them. Never._

When Alex shifted on the couch beside him, moving closer and resting her hand on his chest, he opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. "I don't trust him, Alex."

"Do you think he would hurt the children?"

"Not physically, no. He's not a violent man. But we would end up fielding a lot of questions that I have no answers to, like 'when is Uncle Frank coming to visit again?' I...I don't know if I can do that to them."

She leaned over and kissed his temple. "Look, it's not something we have to deal with tonight. Let's go to bed and we'll handle whatever comes along tomorrow together."

He still had not fully adjusted to the fact that he no longer had to handle his life alone, and she realized that. When he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she kissed him. "Yes, Bobby," she whispered. "Together."

He went into the kitchen for a glass of water and a dose of medicine then joined Alex in the bedroom. He slipped into bed with a soft groan and she snuggled into his side. He pulled her close against him and gradually relaxed as the pain subsided. He shifted against her as he drifted to sleep.

* * *

Bobby usually woke before the alarm, but since the accident, she had been the first one up every morning. She knew he needed the rest to heal, and the medication he was taking contributed largely to his deeper sleep, but she still didn't like it. She just wanted him back to his normal self, and he was not healing fast enough to suit either of them.

She showered and dressed quickly, disappointed that Bobby slept through it. Standing by the side of the bed, she watched him sleep, gently fingering the hair that curled at his temple. He drew in a deeper breath and slowly released it, but he didn't waken. She wanted to wake him, but he'd had a restless night. She decided to let him sleep as long as he could. It was going to be a long day and it would tax his slowly recovering stamina.

Her fingers swept over the hair on his chest and she smiled at how young, how innocent he looked in his sleep. She kissed his forehead and left the room.

Alex got the coffee going and got out the kids' bowls from the cabinet. There would be no time for a hot breakfast, not this morning. She looked at the clock. Just after six. Again, she wondered whose bright idea it had been to schedule the funeral Mass at nine. They had to be on the road by seven-thirty, which meant getting the kids up before seven.

She pulled the milk out of the refrigerator as Bobby limped into the kitchen. "What are you doing up?" she asked. "You could have slept for another half hour or so."

He shook his head. "I'm up now."

"Sit down. I'll bring you a cup of coffee."

She set a coffee cup in front of him and sat across from him. Quietly, she said, "You didn't sleep well."

He shook his head. "I have...too much running through my head."

"Like what?"

He looked into his cup. "My mother, Maggie's injuries, the funeral, my brother...the past..." He paused. "You."

"Me? What about me?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember exactly. I just...I know it was about you, at some point. An-and it set me ill at ease."

In a reassuring gesture, she reached out and caressed his arm. "Bobby, please. You have nothing to worry about. I promise, I am not going anywhere. Maybe I don't have the best track record, but when I married you, I meant it forever. I've known you long enough, and I know you well enough to know what I've gotten myself into. We have three beautiful kids who adore you." She moved to the chair beside him and pulled it close. Leaning in, she softly kissed him. "And so do I," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his hair. "I really do."

She kissed him again and he slipped his arm around her, pulling her close and prolonging the kiss. When she pulled back, she gave him a loving smile. "With you I have everything I have ever wanted," she said softly. "Now I have to get Maggie and Tom up. We have to be on the way by seven-thirty."

He watched her walk away before he let himself think about the coming day. Unresolved emotions churned his gut and swirled through his mind. It was going to be a very long, stressful day.


	20. Brother Against Brother

It was a small funeral. Bobby spent the Mass holding Maggie in his lap, comforting her and trying to quietly answer her questions. Alex, cuddling little Molly, was once more grateful for Maggie's ability to distract and refocus her father's attention. The little girl prevented him from dwelling on his mother's death. There would be time for that later, when Alex could focus on him.

On Bobby's other side, Carolyn entertained Sean with a little teddy bear and Mike held Tommy, who quietly watched everything going on with interest. Jimmy and Angie Deakins were there, and so was Denise, along with some of the staff from Carmel Ridge and a few of Frances' friends from the old neighborhood, women Bobby had not seen since he was a kid.

After the graveside funeral service, Father Patrick, who had been Frances' favorite priest, announced that the family would be gathering at John Eames' house, extending a welcome to any mourners who wished to join them there for lunch.

As Bobby spoke briefly with Denise, Alex looked around for Frank, but she did not see him. If he was there, he did not make his presence known. She couldn't decide if it would be better if he had not showed up or if he had and remained out of sight.

* * *

They spent the drive to John's house trying to answer Maggie's questions about Heaven to her satisfaction. By the time Alex pulled into the driveway, Bobby had a headache but Maggie was finally convinced that Gramma was in a better place and her brain was no longer sick.

Alex took Tommy from his carseat and set him on the ground. He ran toward the house and climbed onto the porch as the front door opened. John had beaten them there by about ten minutes. He gathered his youngest grandson into his arms and hugged him. "Go on inside to Aunt Reggie and get some grapes, Tom."

Tom clapped his little hands. "Gapes! Yay!"

John stepped off the porch and reached out to lift Maggie up, grasping her crutches with one hand as he settled her in his other arm. "How is your leg, Princess?"

"It's good, Grampa. It doesn' even hurt no more."

At the front door, he looked back as Alex pulled out of the car with Molly and closed the door. Reaching in through the open passenger window, she ran her hand over Bobby's hair and walked toward the house.

John set Maggie on the couch and turned to take Molly from her mother. "Is Bobby all right?"

"Yes. He just needs a minute."

"How is he feeling?"

"He's getting better, just slowly, especially for him. It's driving him crazy," she smiled. "And of course, he shares the wealth."

John laughed. He studied his daughter as images from the past few years flickered through his mind. "This time, honey, you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into."

She nodded. "Eyes wide open, Dad."

With a chuckle, he slipped Molly out of her snowsuit and laid her in the playpen in the corner of the room. The baby sighed in her sleep. John felt a deep satisfaction, seeing his Alex settled into a happy marriage with a man she loved so much, a man he had come to love like his own. He had never doubted Bobby's devotion to her. Whatever happened, John had no doubt that Bobby would take care of Alex and their children.

* * *

Bobby leaned his head back, absorbing the quiet and willing his head to stop throbbing. He breathed slowly and as deeply as he could. He shifted his position and the pain in his knee flared. He cursed out loud, angry and frustrated. Shoving the door open, he got out of the car and grabbed his cane, resting it against the car.

Shoving his hand in his coat pocket, he pulled out a prescription bottle. Staring at the label, he felt his anger and frustration boil over and he threw the small bottle as hard as he could at the garage door. The inertia of his throw knocked him off balance, causing him to catch himself with his injured leg. He stepped quickly onto his other leg, shifting his weight before his leg gave way.

Limping back to the car, he leaned against it, swearing as he gathered himself. Slowly, he limped to the garage to retrieve the pill bottle. Returning to the car, he dumped two pills into his hand and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing and shoving the bottle back into his pocket. He brought his fist down into the door of the car.

"Why so angry, Bobby?"

Surprised by the voice that came from the end of the driveway, he turned. "Frank? What the hell are you doing here?"

Frank stepping onto the driveway. "Father Patrick extended the invitation to join the family. I _am_ family, so here I am."

Bobby frowned. "You—You were at the funeral?"

The elder brother twitched his shoulder. "She was my mother, too."

Bobby felt his anger growing, expanding in his chest and eclipsing the pain in his body. "Why didn't you talk to me, let me know you were there?"

Frank moved in closer. "Why wouldn't your _wife_ let me talk with you last night? Then maybe I'd have been more comfortable talking to you today."

"Don't drag her into this, Frank. Our problems don't have anything to do with her."

"You never told me you got married, that I have nieces and a nephew!"

Anger boiled toward rage. "Why should I have?"

"Because I'm your brother!"

Bobby struggled to get past his fury and evaluate Frank's condition, but he couldn't keep his anger out of his voice. "How'd you make it through the funeral, Frank? You couldn't bother to go see Mom while she was alive. How does that make you feel?"

Frank still maintained some semblance of a control that was slipping from his brother's reach. "I try _not _to feel, little brother. Looks to me like you could use some help with that, too."

Bobby trembled and his balance faltered. He grabbed the side of the car and pointed angrily at Frank. "I don't need any help from you. What did you take, Frank? How fucking stoned are you now?"

Frank's mouth turned up into a sneer. "Hard to tell any more, Bobby?"

"Damn it! Just get the hell out of here! I don't want you and your shit around my family."

"I _am_ your family!" Frank shouted back at him.

"_They _are my family!" Bobby snarled, jabbing an angry hand toward the house, again knocking his balance off. His full weight crashed down on his injured leg, which somehow held, but pain shot like a white hot rod through his knee and into his hip. His mind was numb with rage, though, and he barely felt the pain. He moved toward Frank.

* * *

In the house, Tommy was digging in the toybox that was nestled between the wall and the couch, searching for a favorite toy. Maggie watched him, casting her gaze toward the front door every few seconds as she waited for her father to come inside. It was sure taking Daddy a long time to come into the house, and she began to wonder if something was wrong with him. Getting up from the couch, she grabbed her crutches and hobbled to the window.

There was someone at the end of the driveway, but a big tree blocked her view of anything but the person's legs. She watched her father talk to the person, and she grew alarmed. Something was very wrong. "Mommy," she called, trying to keep her voice calm so she wouldn't upset her brother.

Alex came out of the kitchen and crossed the room to Maggie's side. "What is it, baby?"

She pointed, quietly saying, "Something's wrong outside. Daddy's really mad."

Alex looked out the window and muttered under her breath. She grabbed her coat as she hurried out the door. Maggie looked around the room. All the adults were still in the kitchen and Tommy had climbed into the big toybox, still digging around for his elusive toy. Hurrying toward the door, Maggie pulled on her jacket and followed her mother out of the house.

* * *

Frank looked past his brother as Alex stepped off the porch and walked toward them. Bobby stopped barely a foot in front of Frank, his eyes blazing. Frank had done many things to anger his brother since they were little, but he couldn't recall ever seeing such rage in Bobby's eyes. Stepping away from the car, Bobby shoved Frank, hard. "You have some nerve, showing up here like this!" Bobby growled, his voice low and dangerous.

If Frank's mind had been clear, he would have recognized the tone and backed off. But the drugs clouded his judgment and he swung a fist toward Bobby's head. As his fist contacted Bobby's temple, Alex shouted, "Enough!"

Rage blocked every sense in either man's head and neither of them heard Alex's shout. Behind her, Maggie watched in horror as a man she did not recognize hit her father. She scrambled forward, fear for Daddy's well being eclipsing everything she should have felt and driving her normal good sense right out of her. She moved past her mother, who was stunned for a moment at Maggie's sudden appearance. Alex lunged for her just a second too late. "Maggie!"

With a sobbing cry of "No!", Maggie threw herself between the fighting men. She only barely heard her mother shout her father's name over the heavy breathing and grunts that were so much closer. She felt something heavy hit her head, and she cried out. Sounds became muted as Maggie turned toward the stranger who was trying to hurt her daddy. She felt something inside her she had never felt before—something she could only describe as _red_. Without thinking, she dropped one crutch and gripped the other the way Daddy was teaching her to hold a baseball bat. For all she was worth, she swung it toward the stranger until it wouldn't move any more and she felt herself falling. She hit the side of the driveway and slid on the ice into the snow. Then, the red was gone, and she hurt, and Mommy was holding her, checking her over and asking if she was okay. Her voice sounded funny, like she was trying not to cry, but her eyes were very mad. Maggie just nodded her head and Mommy hugged her tight.

Beyond the mother and child in the snow at the side of the driveway, Bobby stood by the back of the car, still trying to understand what had just happened. Several feet behind him, Frank was kneeling near the sidewalk, staring in disbelief at the little girl who had stepped into the fight to attack him with a miniature crutch.

Fury once again gripped Bobby's mind, unfocused and barely restrained. He turned on his brother and in a low, threatening tone, he growled, "Get the fuck out of here, Frank, or I'll kill you."

Frank looked into his brother's face, and in spite of the drugs coursing through his system, a modicum of sense oozed into his brain. Rising cautiously, he backed away from Bobby to the sidewalk, then turned and hurried away from the house.

Bobby turned back toward his wife and daughter. He was trembling from a combination of adrenaline and unresolved emotion he had no idea what to do with. He couldn't force himself to move. His right leg was numb from his hip to his calf, and his brain was numb as well. He couldn't piece together the last few moments; everything was a blur. The fight with Frank, Maggie's sudden appearance between them, Alex grabbing him and then disappearing...

He stared at the two forms beside the driveway. His trembling worsened as fear edged into the mix, and he found it hard to catch his breath. He leaned heavily against the car; everything seemed so distant. One thought finally slipped past his shock into his fevered mind. _Maggie...Alex...What have I done now?_


	21. Aftermath

Kneeling in the snow, Alex smoothed Maggie's hair, holding her close. Maggie pressed herself closer to her mother, deeper into comforting arms. She felt tired, almost weak, and afraid, though not for herself. "Where's Daddy?" she asked softly. "Is he okay?"

Alex felt a tremor she could not suppress assault her muscles. "Let's get you in out of the cold first and make sure you aren't hurt."

"But Daddy..."

"Enough, Maggie."

Maggie recognized the tone. It was the same tone Mommy had used when she left Daddy behind after the accident. Burying her face in her mother's shoulder, she began to cry.

Alex rose to her feet, lifting Maggie from the ground. She didn't look toward Bobby. She was too angry right now. She needed a few minutes to calm down before she could deal with him and not send him spiraling into a panic. It did not occur to her that by ignoring him and taking Maggie into the house, she did just that.

Alex carried Maggie into the living room and laid her on the couch. John came hurrying out of the kitchen at the sound of Maggie's sobs. Reggie was right behind him. Alex had removed Maggie's jacket and she was kneeling beside the couch, looking over the little girl. She found an abrasion on the side of Maggie's forehead along with a bruise just above it, extending to her hairline, where Frank had unintentionally hit her. Her husband's brother had better be careful never to cross paths with her again. She would not hold herself accountable for anything she might do to him. John sat down beside Maggie as Reggie went after the first aid kit from the bathroom. "What happened?" he asked Alex, reaching out to touch a bruise near her right eyebrow.

"It's okay, Dad. There was a little problem out in the driveway, but it's over."

Maggie struggled to control her sobs as Tommy dove head first out of the toybox and scrambled to her. "Maga!"

She pulled her brother into her arms and held him as she leaned against her grandfather. Alex leaned back on her heels. "She seems to be okay."

John slipped an arm around Maggie. "Where's Bobby?"

Alex looked toward the front door and sighed. She had to go back out into the cold and deal with him. She met her father's concerned gray eyes. "I'll be right back," she replied evasively.

As she rose, Maggie grabbed her arm. "Mommy..."

She leaned down and kissed Maggie's head and then Tommy's. "Don't worry, Maggie," she said sternly, looking into the sad little face.

She hung Maggie's coat on its peg by the door before she left the house.

When Alex stepped out of the house, Bobby was nowhere in sight. Her gut tightened reflexively. His cane was on the ground beside the car, and she wondered just how far he thought he was going to get on foot. She started toward the end of the driveway, certain he couldn't have gotten far.

She was surprised to find him sitting on the ground behind the car, his head buried in his arms, resting on his left knee. She stood still for a long moment as her remaining anger slid away. Slowly, she approached and sat beside him on the ground. She felt his body stiffen, but he didn't move. Not until...

Very deliberately, she slid her arm along his back and rested her head against his shoulder. He shuddered for a moment, then his arms dropped away and he turned, pulling her against him and holding her tight. "I'm so sorry," he murmured against her hair, his breathing ragged. "I...lost control."

She held him until his arms relaxed, and she let him pull back. He rested his head back against the car. Not knowing his state of mind, she remained silent, waiting for him to talk. When he regained control of his breathing, he asked, "How...How is Maggie?"

Alex was not surprised by the question. "She's okay. She's worried about you."

"Did...he, uh...we...hurt her?"

She could hear the pain and reluctance in his voice. He was afraid of the answer. "Well," she said cautiously. "She has a little scrape and a minor bruise on the side of her head, but that's all. My sister is cleaning her up."

She watched him close his eyes as he processed her words, certain he was trying to piece together what had happened, to determine which one of them had actually injured Maggie. Reaching out, she sifted her fingers through his hair. "Let's go inside. It's cold out here and I really don't want to sit in the driveway all day."

After a long pause, he finally nodded. He had braced himself for another scene like the one in Syracuse. Her tenderness knocked him off balance, and he had no idea what to do with it. She should be mad, furious with him, but she wasn't. At least, not yet.

She rose to her feet, picking up Maggie's crutches from the driveway before she walked around to retrieve his cane as he struggled up from the ground. Eyes closed, he leaned back against the car, light-headed and sweating. When he opened his eyes, she was waiting for him. He accepted the cane without looking at her, not sure he wanted to see what was in her eyes. He was still braced for her anger, and he wasn't sure what to do when it didn't come.

He steeled himself to bear weight on his injured leg, and there was no surprise with that. Pain shot up into his hip as he stepped forward. It took all his effort to make it seem as though he wasn't struggling too badly as they walked to the house, but he was relying on the cane more than he had been and he was very careful to avoid the ice at the edge of the driveway.

She held the door open for him and followed him into the house. After hanging up both their coats, she looked toward the couch, glad to see that Maggie had calmed down. Not surprising, though, her dark eyes welled with tears when she looked up at them. She watched her father closely, clearly willing herself not to cry. Beside her on the couch, Tommy had a book spread open in his lap, but he looked up right after she did. Normally, he would have scrambled off the couch and run to his parents as though he hadn't seen them all day, but when he shifted the book, Maggie grasped his arm. "Stay here, Tommy," she softly cautioned.

He slid the book back onto his lap and stayed where he was.

Bobby sat heavily beside the two children and dropped the cane flat on the floor directly in front of the couch, so no one would trip over it. Reluctantly, he eased out a heavy breath as the pain lessened. Then he turned his head to look at Maggie and Tommy. He touched the edge of the bandage on the side of Maggie's forehead. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. He tipped his head, inviting her up onto his lap. She scrambled up into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tommy followed her example, and he hugged them both. Then Tommy moved away and climbed off the couch. Confident he had taken care of his sister, he scurried to the kitchen after hugging his mother's legs, looking for his misplaced cup of juice.

Maggie pulled back and sat in Bobby's lap, looking up at him. He studied her, then finally took a chance and looked up at Alex. He was caught off-guard by the bruise on her brow, and whatever he had been about to say fled his mind. Finally chasing down a random thought, he motioned toward her and said, "You...your face...Alex..."

That was concise. She drew in a deep breath, but there was still no anger on her face. She just shrugged. "I knew better. It was my own fault."

His memory of the fight was blurred by rage, but he had a vague sense of her being there, close by, and... "You grabbed me, didn't you?"

She was pleased to see that he could still string his words into a sentence after all. She nodded briefly. "Like I said, I knew better. I should have learned my lesson after the last dog fight I tried to break up."

"Alex..."

She waved a hand at him. "We'll talk about it later."

She rubbed her still-cold hands against her pants and moved to sit on the couch beside him. They had something more important to deal with.

Bobby took a few deep, slow breaths, clearing his mind and readying himself to deal with his little daughter. She had his protective recklessness, and he had no idea how to teach her to curb it. He wasn't sure she could, any more than he could, but she could have been badly hurt and they had to do something about it.

Maggie looked at Alex, and then at Bobby. Neither of them were smiling and she knew she was in trouble. She remained silent, waiting to see which parent would speak first.

Finally, Bobby broke the silence. "What did you think you were doing?" he asked.

She looked down, running her finger along the edge of her cast. In a small voice, she said, "I didn' wan' him to hurt you."

Propping his elbow on the arm of the couch, Bobby rubbed his forehead. Alex remained silent, and he knew this was his problem to deal with. She would back him, but he was the one who had to handle it. "Maggie, do you have any idea who that man was?"

She shook her head. He wasn't surprised that she didn't recognize him. There had been pictures of him in his mother's room, but none were recent, and drugs had changed his brother in a lot of ways. "That was your Uncle Frank."

Maggie looked at him, surprised. "Uncle Frank? But...he's your brother, Daddy. Why was he tryin' to hurt you?"

He fought the sense of amusement that suddenly cropped up. There was no way he could ever make Maggie understand the complicated relationship he had with Frank. "It wasn't entirely Uncle Frank's fault. I had something to do with what happened. I don't expect you to understand, but I don't get along with my brother, and that's not something you are ever going to change." This was hard for him, because he knew that she was the way she was because of him, compounded by her mother's stubbornness. "Maggie, you can't fix the world. You are five years old, and it's not your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you. You can't go running headlong into disaster every time you think I'm in trouble."

"But...but...he was tryin' to hurt you."

"So then you let him hurt me. I was trying to hurt him, too. You should never have gotten between us."

"But Mommy..."

She was being stubborn, and he was going to have to get firm with her. "Mommy is an adult, and she would never have tried to interfere if you had been somewhere safe."

Maggie looked back down at her lap. She twisted her fingers together, and Alex was once again struck by how very much the little girl was like her father. Her behavior was deeply ingrained, and so was her sense of moral responsibility, even if she was too little to recognize it for what it was. They might be fighting a losing battle, but somehow, they had to teach her to evaluate a situation before throwing herself into it. She had to learn to think before she acted.

Bobby shifted his position, and he was unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath when the pain in his leg bit into him like fire. He knew he'd undone what progress he'd made toward healing and he silently cursed his brother again. Why couldn't he have just stayed away, like he usually did? Why the hell did 'family' have to suddenly become a word in his vocabulary?

Maggie raised her head when he gasped, concern replacing the sadness in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. Bobby's fingers brushed across her back, reassuring, and the fire of pain eased from his eyes. When the pain had receded enough for him to speak again, he said, "Do you realize you could have been badly hurt?"

"But, Daddy, you..."

"No, Maggie. I was _not_ looking out for you! You were supposed to have been in the house!" Alex touched his hand lightly, and he paused, forcing himself to calm down. Frustration would get him nowhere. "Look, baby, I know you were worried, and I understand that you feel the need to protect everyone you love. But sometimes, you can't. Sometimes, you just have to let things happen."

Alex was struck by a strong sense of irony. His words were very true, but it was something that he himself was unable to do. She also noticed that he was able to predict Maggie's every argument. He knew how Maggie thought because she thought like he did. This child was going to be a force to be reckoned with when she grew up, but right now, they had to convince her to simply be a child.

Maggie's eyes flashed with temper. "So are you sayin' I shouldn' watch out for Tommy, or Molly, or..."

"Don't!" Bobby warned, and Maggie fell silent. He lowered his voice and softened his tone. "Don't put words in my mouth. I didn't say that at all. You should watch out for the little ones because you're older and you know better. You should do what you can to keep them safe. But I am not your brother, Maggie. I can take care of myself, and if something happens to me because I messed up, then that's on me and no one else. I will not have you getting hurt by being in the middle of something you have no business being in. Do you understand me?"

She met his eyes. "Yes, Daddy. I unnerstan'."

He could tell there was more she wanted to say. "Go ahead," he said softly. "Say your piece."

She didn't look away. Her face was set with determination. She was going to make him understand what was on her mind. "I don' 'member a lot from when I was little, but I 'member some things. I 'member when you telled me that you are my Daddy. I 'member when we got Tommy from the hopsital. I 'member protectin' Tommy from the mean lady, and talkin' to Your Honor about her." She paused as she drew forth the most painful of the few memories she had from past few years. "I 'member when you and Uncle Mike went away, and Mommy cried 'cause she didn' think you was ever comin' home again." Her voice softened even more. "I 'member that I was your best med'cine."

Bobby rested his forehead on his hand again and closed his eyes. Alex stared at Maggie, stunned. Maggie looked at her. "I do 'member, Mommy."

Alex nodded and spoke for the first time since the conversation began. "I know you do, sweetheart."

Maggie looked back at her father, her dark eyes intense. She reached out and touched his cheek. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look at her. Her voice was soft, but it was every bit as intense as the look on her face. "I love you, Daddy. More'n anybody. And if you was gone f'rever, I would never be happy again. That's why I try to pr'tect you. I don' never wanna be alone, without you."

Alex looked away, to hide the tears that had welled up in her eyes. Bobby pulled Maggie into a hug, swallowing hard. How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

Maggie rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him. She knew she was little and there wasn't much she could do against a big person. But sometimes, she couldn't help herself, like when she hit Uncle Frank with her crutch.

Gently, Bobby set her back on his lap so he could look at her. "Okay, I understand where you're coming from. Now I need you to understand me. How do you think it would make me feel if you were hurt trying to do something you shouldn't be doing? Suppose Uncle Frank or I had really hurt you. It would have been an accident, but you still would have been hurt."

"You woulda been mad an' sad all at once, and then you woulda really hurt Uncle Frank."

He couldn't help smiling a little. "That's probably true."

She touched his smile and he kissed her finger. She smiled back for a moment, then became serious again. "I'm sorry, Daddy. But..." She paused, trying to find the words to describe what had happened out in the yard. "I watch when you and Uncle Mike play ball, and I seen you an' Mommy wrestle, too. But Uncle Frank was tryin' to hurt you." She paused again, thinking. "I wasn' gonna do somethin', Daddy. Really, I wasn'. But he hit you an'...in my brain..." She made a face, concentrating on her memory of what happened. "It...It jus' went _red_."

He swallowed. "Red?"

She nodded. "That's what happened. Ev'eythin' went red and then Mommy was holdin' me onna ground by the driveway."

He ran his hand over his hair. "Oh, Maggie..."

That wasn't what he'd wanted to hear from her. He understood exactly what she was describing. He glanced at Alex, who was slowly shaking her head. His brow furrowed and he had no idea what to say to either of them.

Alex slowly got to her feet and retrieved Maggie's crutches from beside the front door, where she'd left them. "Maggie, baby, go out in the kitchen and ask Grandpa and Aunt Reggie to let you help them. Uncle Mike will be here soon, and we're probably going to have some company in a little while. I need to talk to Daddy."

Maggie leaned in and gave her father a kiss. Then she slid from his lap and took the crutches from Alex. "Okay, Mommy."

Alex watched her hobble off to the kitchen. "She's getting good with those crutches." She looked at Bobby. "She has a pretty mean swing, too."

He looked up at her, puzzled. She sat beside him. "She held that crutch like a bat and slammed it into Frank's legs. Brought him right down. She's a real fighter."

He blinked, puzzled by the pride in her tone. "Alex..."

She touched his lips. "Shhh. Just listen. She's a fighter, Bobby. She is loving and sweet and kind and gentle. But if someone steps out of line with a person she loves, a different kid emerges. I was like that when I was a kid, only I wasn't as loving and sweet and kind and gentle. Ask Dad how many calls he and Mom got about playground fights. I don't really see us getting the same kind of calls about Maggie."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Did you hear what she described, Alex? That...That was rage. I know that feeling...that..._red_ that she described."

She nodded. "I realize that. But I'm not overly concerned. Do you know why?"

He shook his head, honestly perplexed. "No. I don't."

"Because she had a reason. If she'd felt that rage with no provocation, then I would be worried. But she was provoked; she had a good reason to feel that way. Believe me, I wanted to club Frank myself. I nearly did last night. She hasn't learned self-control or restraint, but it will come. In time, she will learn to control those overpowering emotions. She'll learn to recognize them and keep them in their place until she needs them. She will also learn to accept the consequences when they slip out of her control. She's not an angry child, Bobby. She's going to be fine."

"How did she end up with the worst of both of us?"

Alex smiled. "It's because she also got the best of us. Everything is balanced."

He scrubbed his hands over his face. She moved closer to him. "Don't worry too much."

"But I do worry." He tapped the side of his head. "I know what's in here."

She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. "And I know what's in here. Everyone has their dark side, whether you want to admit it or not. It's a matter of balance, of keeping everything in perspective. You learned to do that the hard way. Maggie won't have an uphill battle to fight."

He remained quiet, letting her assurances tumble about in his head as he stared at the floor. She made sense. He raised his eyes to her and slowly nodded. "We'll take care of her."

"Of course we will."

He nodded again, with more conviction. "All right. Now answer a question for me."

"Go ahead."

"Why aren't you pissed as hell at me?"

"Do you think I should be?"

"Well, I...I expected it. Hell, Alex...I had an accident in a snowstorm and you wanted to leave me the hell in Syracuse for good. I didn't do that intentionally. Now...I got into a fight with my brother and you're okay with it?"

"No, I'm not okay with it. But your relationship with your brother is strictly between you and him. I have no say in it and I don't want any. It is whatever you guys have made it, and I know you have your reasons."

"And Maggie getting hurt...?"

"That wasn't your fault; it was hers...and mine for not realizing she'd followed me. I was so mad about Syracuse because it should never have happened. You should have come home and let me help you cope. There is a huge difference between the two."

He touched the side of her head, smoothing his hand over her hair. "I never know what to expect from you."

"Good. I have to keep you guessing to keep it fair."

"Keep what fair?"

Her mouth twitched into a half-smile. "The balance of power. It's not easy being married to a genius, but it sure helps balance things out when you manage to keep him guessing."

He laughed softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

She rested her hand on his right knee, barely hiding her concern at the heat that radiated from the joint. "Hurt?" she asked.

He nodded. There was no point in denying it. "I guess I didn't do it any good fighting with Frank."

"No. I'm sure you didn't, but I'll let Dr. Wrightweiler deal with you. And if the words 'admit you' come out of his mouth, don't you dare argue with him or I swear I _will_ drive your ass back to Syracuse and leave you there."

He couldn't help another laugh. "You wouldn't."

"Do you really want to try me?"

He seemed to consider it. "No. I guess not."

"All right, then. It's up to the doctor, entirely."

He grabbed her wrist before she got up. "No cheating, Eames," he warned. "You can't talk to him before we see him."

The corners of her mouth turned up. "I won't have to, Goren. You screwed yourself over this time." Leaning down, she kissed him. "I'll get you an ice pack and something to eat. You stay put."

He nodded, turning to watch her trot into the kitchen. She turned his world upside down, and that wasn't a bad thing, not at all.

* * *

Alex finished sponging off the counter and she set the sponge on the back of the sink. Tommy was in his room, sleeping, and Molly was in the crib in the bedroom. Maggie was in the living room with Bobby, watching television.

John closed the refrigerator and turned to her with a smile. "All in all, a busy day, but a good one."

She nodded. "Much better than it started out."

He followed her into the living room. The television was still on, but Bobby was stretched out on the couch, sleeping. Maggie was laying comfortably on his chest, also sound asleep. John smiled fondly. "Remember all the times we used to find them like this when she was a baby?"

Alex nodded. "Right there has always been her favorite place to be."

"Some things never change." He kissed her head. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Dad."

She got a blanket from the wooden chest under the window and covered them. Then she kissed them each softly and whispered, "Good night."

She turned off the television and went to bed.

_fin.

* * *

_

**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this. I'm not sure what's coming next. I'm waiting for inspiration to strike. **


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